


cherished child

by hoopdedoop



Category: Cardfight!! Vanguard
Genre: M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2018-10-03
Packaged: 2019-02-13 13:45:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 70,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12985329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hoopdedoop/pseuds/hoopdedoop
Summary: With Aichi by his side, Kai believed he could accomplish anything. So he took the chance, he took the step, to try and regain what he’d lost. With that, he looped back to the beginning, to the start of everything, relapse inevitable.Where there are things to be gained, there are things to be lost. Perhaps the past was best left untouched. Perhaps the future he’d imagined was just an illusion.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Konungarike](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Konungarike/gifts).



> This year my bestie Konungarike told me, "If you wrote me anything, I would treasure it more than any material object".
> 
> So, this if for you, friend.
> 
> Merry Christmas.

 

 

 

 

 

 

It was a little chilly outside the covers. He’d woken up before the alarm. With a glance, he reached to turn it off.

The blinds were shut, but the door was open, more so than he’d left it the night before. The windows in the hallway across the bedroom door were pouring with sunlight.

A wet nose pressed against his hand, still outside the covers. When Kai looked down at her, Gloria started wagging her tail, panting on his hand. She whined, and he petted her head.

He got up, and she pressed against his side. Clothes were already prepared in two pairs, laid out across a chair. Kai ignored them, and wearing the same t-shirt he’d slept in, he put on a pair of pants from the wardrobe across the bed.

He went down the stairs, and as he did, the excitement got the better of Gloria. She let out a bark, and Kai pressed his hand down on her head. “Shh,” He hushed her, and she pressed her head back up against his hand.

Kai passed the kitchen, and normally, he might stick around, feed the cats and let them eat in peace while Gloria dragged him around the neighborhood, but their bowls weren’t empty.

One was on the kitchen counter, waiting for fresh food. With his thickly fuzzed tail and large head, Bushy was easy to recognize. Normally, Kai would stop to pet him. Today, his mind was elsewhere.

He hadn’t woken up in the morning feeling like this in a very long time.

Kai slipped into his shoes and clipped Gloria’s leash onto her collar. He took the first jacket within his reach.

It was a little chilly out. As he shut the door, he thought of getting back in and put on a scarf, but didn’t. He wasn’t that flexible today.

Gloria was her usual self. She walked just a bit faster than him, just barely not straining the collar. Kai had planned to take a shorter route than normal, but before he knew it, he’d forgotten to take that turn, and it didn’t cross his mind to take the same way back. It was sunny, but the air was humid and raw. Two story-houses, lined one after another down one-way roads, some with a little bit of greenery, others without. It had been a few years since they’d moved here. There were still some places unfamiliar, and Kai would probably never learn to recognize every neighbor.

It was a good neighborhood. Fairly good connections. Not very busy, but not too quiet either. Schools and playgrounds were very accessible, restaurants too if you were willing to walk, or bike, for a few extra minutes. It was one of many communities that laid in connection to outskirts of the Tokyo subway system. If you wanted to get on the Yamanote line, it’d take about 30 minutes, which was perfectly reasonable.

It was a great place to settle for families.

A few blocks from their house, Gloria pulled on her leash and Kai was snapped out of his foggy mind.

Gloria had spotted her friend, the small white Spitz who lived a few houses down across of them. His owner, an elderly lady and mother of two flown-out children, a Mrs. Tabata, was someone Kai did not mind exchanging a few words with now and then. It was small talk, but she was a genuine person.

Kai had crossed the empty street.

“Oh, you’re up early today, aren’t you?” He was asked. Often they’d leave their houses around the same time.

“Yes,” Kai smiled. “It’s going to be a pretty long day today.”

“Oh really? I won’t keep you, then.” She spoke kindly. Kai appreciated she didn’t ask, and yet, showed her concern.

“I hope all is well with you,” It was more of a greeting than a question.

“...Things are a little stressful right now,” Kai wasn’t sure exactly when he’d started finding it harder to lie than to tell the truth. It had been a long time ago now. Just now he’d been tempted, but the fear of falling back into old habits was greater than almost anything.

“But we’ll manage.”

“Oh, I see.” Mrs. Tabata replied, as Kai had expected.

“Say hello to your husband,” Kai pulled Gloria back just a little.

“Oh, of course! Same to you!” 

After what had been the most brief exchange in months, they parted.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Kai shut the door quietly.

Gloria waited for him like a good dog as he took off his jacket and his shoes. Coming inside, he realized he’d been freezing. He wiped Gloria’s paws, and she excitedly followed him inside, sticking close by him.

Gloria wasn’t Kai’s dog. Regardless, her morning routine had without a doubt come to revolve around him, at least on weekdays. Kai didn’t mind. She knew to be obedient and behave herself around him. Back in the kitchen, the number of cats on the counter had increased. All three of them sat in wait for a breakfast that was now late. Kai felt a little bad. They parted so he could check their bowls.

“You still have food left,” he mumbled, knowing they wouldn’t touch it if he didn’t at least mix it up with some fresh pellets.

The cats ate on the counter, the dog on the floor. Kai got bread from the freezer and he turned on the oven. He crept upstairs, and quietly went back into the bedroom to get his clothes. Kai checked the time on the clock on the nightstand. It was 6.45 am. He could clearly hear it tick and tock the seconds away in the absolute silence.

Normally; normally, during this part of his routine, Kai would at least open the blinds and let some light in. Today it felt unfair. It was still so early.

He took his clothes and left. He showered and got dressed.

Kai ground beans and heated milk. French coffee and French bread, a mediterranean breakfast. He loved to cook, and in terms of everyday dinners, everyday lunches and snacks or whichever, he still seemed to levitate towards washoku, the Japanese cuisine. However, the years of Parisian coffee shops had made it hard to let go of the French-style breakfast. It had lingered, and was now, a steadfast part of their lives.

Even on this morning, in his strained, detached state, he carried out the routine almost mechanically. It was a comfortable thing.

Kai made a cup of café au lait. He made sure to not fill it too much. It had to be strong, but not too strong. He added a spoonful of sugar and stirred. He checked the time on the oven. It was 7:22 am. Kai took the cup of coffee and went upstairs.

He slipped back inside the bedroom and opened the blinds. He sat the cup down on the dresser, and made space on the side of the bed. From under the covers, there was no sound or movement whatsoever.

“Aichi,” He said softly, pulling the covers down to his shoulders, touching him.

 _“Aichi,”_ He repeated, “It’s about time.”

Aichi moved just a little. Kai watched him.

“I got your coffee,” He said, still touching his shoulder. “Breakfast is ready, too.”

Usually it took a lot more to wake Aichi up. Kai would have to leave and come back, he’d have to maybe even draw some sternness into his voice and let him know just how late he’d be for work if he didn’t get out of bed right this very moment.

Today, Aichi was already rolling over, quiet, blinking eyes strained in the light. He looked so tired, and Kai felt his heart ache for him.

“What time is it?” He asked, voice broken with sleep.

Kai brushed a bit of hair out of his face. “About half-past seven,”

Aichi pulled himself up to a sitting position, drooping.

“We’re late,” He said, and with somewhat shaky hands he reached for the coffee cup. Before he could reach it, Kai handed it to him.

“Not really.” Kai replied. “You just need to get dressed and eat. Everything is ready.”

“Oh,” It would take a while before Aichi was himself. He sipped his coffee. Tasting it, he tensely pressed his lips together.

“Is it too strong?” Kai asked, but Aichi shook his head.

“Oh, no. It’s good.”

Kai preferred to believe him. Aichi would never bother him over something like a cup of coffee, regardless; but it bothered him.

Normally, it wouldn’t be a problem. He decided not to say anything. 

Aichi drank his coffee without complaint, and Kai sat close next to him. It was a short and comforting moment despite the harsh morning light.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Aich had gotten up to get ready, slipped into his slippers and wobbled down the hallway to the bathroom.

Kai waited in the kitchen, had his own coffee, made a sandwich, watched the cats come and eat a second time. He was keeping an eye on the time. Aichi probably wouldn’t be long, but just in case, Kai was prepared to go upstairs to check on him.

When Aichi did come down the stairs, not a minute late, Gloria rose from her spot under the table and rushed to him. She jumped up at him, and he petted her all over, rubbing her head and sides. “Good girl, _good girl,”_ He said, sweet-talking her, but Kai saw how tired he was.

They sat to eat. Aichi got more coffee, and Kai did as well.

No usual conversations. No newspaper, no morning television.

“How are you?” Aichi asked, as Kai had expected him to.

“I’m,” Although he had expected the question, he wasn’t sure what to say. “Alright, I think. I’m nervous.”

“Yeah.”

There was nothing left for them to say to one another. In a few hours maybe, things would be different.

“How about you? Did you get to sleep?” Kai asked, and Aichi nodded.

“Yeah, I think. I woke up once or twice, but it wasn’t so bad.” Aichi forced a smile. “I’m tired though.”

The circumstances were testing them. In trying times, Kai had always turned to Aichi, and he’d learned to expect to find reassurance and comfort in his strength, in his perseverance. It was hard on Kai, to see Aichi visibly worried, anxious, without his usual appetite, and to see him force a smile.

Aichi was never quite himself in the morning, but this was different.

A few precious minutes later, just past eight, they were at the door.

“It’s colder than it looks,” Kai said as he got his jacket. “So you should get a scarf or something.”

“Yeah,” Aichi responded, absent minded, checking his pockets.

“I got keys,” Kai added.

“Oh. Right,”

Gloria has squeezed herself in between them.

“No girl,” Aichi told her, and pushed her away. She persisted. “No. We’re not going for a walk.”

 _“Gloria,”_ Kai said firmly. She snapped to attention. _“Go to bed.”_

She hesitated for no more than a split second.

They got in the car, Kai in the driver’s seat, Aichi in the passenger’s seat. The whirring sound of the seat belts, and Kai getting his keys out of his pocket, and they were more than ready to go.

“Hang on,” Aichi leaned forward to grab his bag, a book bag, and a quite nice one too- Kai had gotten it for him for his birthday a few years ago, and it had been lovingly used ever since. Aichi tore it open, sliding out the plastic paper folders, envelopes, a slim backless plastic archive, and Kai saw them labeled FiVA, UT Dept. of Astronomy, etcetera, and Aichi flipped through them one by one in a flurry.

“Aichi,” Kai interjected, “It’s there.”

They had prepared everything last night.

Aichi didn’t look up. _“Wait, I-”_ He licked his thumb, having found a semi-transparent red folder, flipping through the pages. Once, twice. 

**“Aichi.”** Kai raised his voice in a way unlike himself.

Aichi froze.

“It’s all there.”

Slowly slipping the stack of folders and papers back into his bag, Aichi look at Kai through the reflection in the windshield. “R-right.”

He took a deep breath. “You’re right.”

Kai felt bad, but was quiet. It was a strange few moments of silence. Aichi rubbed his face as he leaned back in his seat.

Kai realized he’d been holding on to steering wheel tightly this entire time. The car wasn’t even on.

“Let’s,” he held his breath. “Let’s just go.”

“Yeah.” Aichi replied quietly.

 

 

 

 

 

 

They arrived early.

That had more or less been the plan, but the almost eerie silence of the waiting room was unnerving. The presence of another two or three other pairs of people came and went, bringing with them their own tension that they refused to take with them as they left.

Registration had only taken a minute. Just id needed, Kai had his license, Aichi his insurance card.

Maybe they could’ve had a light conversation, but the silence made anything above a hush sound deafening.

The appointment was at 9.10 am.

At 9 am Aichi already had his folder out and the papers ready, and in great contrast to his previous bout of panic he checked them in a collected manner.

9:10 am came and went.

Kai stared at the arrows on the clock on the wall. Aichi tried, and failed, to read copy of a Weekly Vanguard magazine dated May the year before.

It was about 9:16 when a man and a woman, aged in their late 20s and late 30s, respectively, came though those double glassed doors. Before their names were called, Kai and Aichi were already getting up.

“Thank you for waiting,” The lady said, “I’m Kubodera, and this is my colleague, Haramura,”

“It’s,” Aichi seemed to hesitate, “It’s nice to meet you,”

Kubodera smiled. “It’s very nice to meet you too,” She said, “It’s always a pleasure.”

Kai knew it was important to make a good impression, but his throat seemed to have dried up. 

Stopping before the second door down the hall, Kubodera turned, “Before we split up, do you have any questions?”

The day before, the week before, every single time he’d had to go over any document or any email or after any phone call, Kai would have had about two thousand questions.

Now, he couldn’t think of a single one.

“Um, I,” Aichi was still holding into his red folder, “It says that the evaluation process can take between 6 weeks to 3 months, what, precisely, determines how long it takes, and what could cause the evaluation to drag our for as long as 3 months?”

A good question. Kai felt relieved. 

“It’s a matter of whether or not we need to request additional information. It’s something that can only be determined down the line.” Haramura replied. “It can take time to get futher documents reviewed. There might also be need for further evaluation meetings or house inspections.”

“I see.” Aichi replied, not sounding completely satisfied.

“If the evaluation drags on for more than 6 months, we will also need to renew the application, redo parts of the evaluation process and update all your documents.”

“I-I know.” Aichi said. He smiled. “Hopefully, it won’t come to that.”

Kai got a bad vibe. He decided not to dwell on it. They really didn’t have time for anything like that.

“Anything else?” Kubodera asked.

“Yes, actually,” Aichi started flipping though his papers, “It says that, um,” He’d looked nervous before, but he appeared to be gradually steeling himself.

It was at times like this, Kai could physically feel his appreciation for Aichi growing.

“About recommendation letters,” Aichi had found the right passage, “I was wondering, what type of,” He wasn’t sure how to express himself, “I mean, who would be appropriate to ask to pen a recommendation letter?”

“There are no specific regulations,” Kubodera replied. “However, we’re mostly interested in accounts on your home environment, so preferably someone close to the two of you on a personal level. Most successful cases include both relatives as well as family friends and coworkers. And, of course, the letters must be written independently.”

“In terms of relatives, do they have to be from the both of us?” Aichi knew what to ask.

Surely Kubodera and Haramura both had reviewed the case file.

“Not necessarily,” Kubodera replied. “But we need accounts on the both of you.”

“Of course,” Aichi paused to think. “I think... That was all.”

“I see. Alright then, if you don’t mind.” Haramura turned to Aichi. “Mr. Sendou, you’re with me.”

“I understand.” Aichi opened the folder and slipped out half of the papers, joined togetherer with a paperclip. Handing them to Kai, and spoke to him quietly. “Here you go.”

“Thank you.” Kai’s voice was barely audible.

Aichi leaned up, and kissed him. He adjusted Kai’s collar, and stroke his shoulder. Kai reached to hold on to Aichi, but did no more than grab his arm, running it down to his wrist to hold his hand.

“Good luck.”

“You too.”

They parted.

“This way, Mr. Sendou,” Haramura said, and took him further down the hall. Aichi glanced behind him, and when their eyes met, Kai knew he had to smile.

It wasn’t that hard.

Kubodera opened the door to their right. “Mr. Kai, if you don’t mind,”

“Thank you.”

It had been a few weeks ago, the initial meeting, with this specific agency. It had been roughly a two hour appointment. They had left exhausted, overfilled with information, and some 50 pages worth of documents richer. It had been overwhelming at first, but they had managed to crank down on it. Aichi was limited in how much time he could take off work, but as it was off season Kai could work on it more or less full time.

Finding medical papers, birth certificates, employment contracts, loans, savings, assets; somewhat time consuming indeed, but in the bigger picture, it was all tangible, and easy to manage.

Indulging himself in the work, filling all the forms and making all the calls, had been a pretty good way for Kai to keep some of his worries at bay.

From now on, it would be different.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Kai felt a chill. His throat was still dry, and he gave a passing thought to the lemon water that’d been served on the tables in the waiting room which he did not partake in. To the sound of papers shuffling, he wondered if it would have at all made any difference.

“Just making sure, but the application is a joint effort between you and Mr. Sendou, correct?”

Kai was caught a bit off guard. “...Yes. Yes it is.”

“I’m required to ask, you see.”

Kubodera read the file. Kai could hear a hum from the ventilation system. There was slight condensation on the windows.

“You’re married,” Kubodera broke the silence like how a crack slips through a sheet of ice. Kai was overtly self-aware.

“Yes.” He replied simply.

“Since September, this year. That’s very recent.” Her voice had no judgment, but Kai was sure to read some in, anyway.

“It was a requirement.”

“That’s not uncommon.” Factual, not reassuring. “What’s your thoughts on marriage, Mr. Kai?”

Not quite the question he had expected.

“...It’s unfortunate,” Kai sought his words. “That it had to happen this way, I suppose.”

Kubodera allowed him time to think.

“I had every intention, for us to marry, but,” Kai lowered his gaze, and traced the linings of the linoleum floor. It was hard to think when you had to look at someone. “But I guess I got a bit, indecisive, or, comfortable... Knowing there was no hurry.”

She took notes.

“I see. So your relationship is not affected by your martial status.”

“I would say no.” Kai was confident in that. “We’ve been together for a long time.”

“How long? The application reads 10 years. Is that true?”

“...” Kai and Aichi had talked about this. “Yes. About 10 years.”

“About 10 years?” Kubodera didn't take any notes on that. “Many couples have, say, an anniversary.”

Kai hadn’t thought something like that would be a problem. Maybe it would be.

“We don’t really have an... anniversary. In that sense.” Kai realized maybe he should explain. “It’s been a long time.”

His line of thought wasn’t slow, it was his aversiveness to talking, resurging like it hadn’t in forever.

He thought back to his years as a teenager, and felt not unlike how he had back then. Doubtful, absent. Perhaps it was the illusion of adulthood revealing itself, perhaps it was the contrast of knowing, and not knowing, what to expect, what to settle for, what to be satisfied with.

Kai had only truly learned of love when he’d already started becoming an adult.

His train of thought looped.

It came back to Aichi.

Kai collected himself.

“What I mean is,” He straightened his back in his seat. “Me and Aichi have known each other since we were young.”

“Oh, so you are childhood friends?”

“Yes,” Kai thought it was best to just say yes. “We reunited when I enrolled high school. By the time I graduated we were very close.”

Kubodera was taking her notes.

“After that, however, I went abroad. Aichi still had a year left of school, and when he graduated, he went to school abroad as well. For a few years we couldn’t see each other very much. But,”

Kai knew what to say. He was simply a bit flustered. He didnt think he’d have to recount this of all things. “But, it was quite clear, I think, that by the time I was a third year, we both knew we were, well, more than, friends.”

“I see.” Kubodera commented. Kai didn’t look straight at her.

Maybe now he’d said enough, or maybe he’d said too much.

He’d have to get used to this.

Kubodera wasn’t very easy to read, but there was something about her that Kai liked, even if he couldn’t articulate it yet.

“About your family,”

_Oh._

Suddenly, Kai wasn’t so happy to change the subject.

“Your parents passed away when you were six,”

“Seven,” Kai corrected her quietly. “I was seven. Does it say six?”

“Oh,” Flipping to the previous page, she excused herself sincerely. “I’m sorry. I was mistaken.”

It should have said the year, Kai thought, and then decided to not think of it any longer.

“And after which point, you were raised by relatives. Is that correct?” Kubodera’s tone was somewhat different. However, it was not colored with pity, or anything such. Kai wasn’t sure what he would call it. He wasn’t always the best at reading the emotions of others. He realized one thing however, something which should have been obvious. Perhaps the reason he felt strangely trusting in her was because she had experience working with children with backgrounds similar to his own.

“Yes,” Kai confirmed. “I was raised by my father’s elder cousin and his wife.”

“How would you describe your childhood living with your relatives?”

Kai turned to glance out the window. He’d started to already run out of places to rest his eyes. Outside there was not much to see. A thick hedge of evergreen, rich of deep shades, unaffected by the cold snap. The condensation on the window had spread, reaching slowly towards the center of the single-layered glass.

He thought briefly of Aichi. He was probably doing a lot better than he was doing, himself. Probably getting getting a bit worked up, probably ranting, back-pedaling, collecting himself, speaking wise and loving words.

Kai had always wished he could be a little bit more like that, too. 

“They treated me well,” 

He still wasn’t sure when he’d become more afraid of lying than telling the truth. It had been a long time ago. Maybe some 10 years or so.

Yet again he was tempted, but he could not bear it. 

“But perhaps it was less than ideal.”

When Kubodera was quiet, Kai realized he should elaborate.

“They already had children, who were a lot older than me. The following year, they had already moved out.” This wasn’t something he had spoke of much, ever. “I didn’t really bond with them.”

“The other children? Or your father’s cousin and his wife?”

Kai realized his mistake. “Well. Both, I suppose.”

For some reason, he’d always imagined things might’ve been different if his foster siblings had been closer to himself in age. He’d always felt like he was intruding on their family life; they were already finished raring children, and then he too, came along, demanding love and attention that had already weaned.

As a child, he had never seen his relatives as bad people. As an adult, his feelings were still mixed. “I could have been... closer to them.”

“I had some trouble in school.” Unrelated to his foster family’s efforts or lack thereof, he’d long thought.

“I hid it, of course.” He added. “If they’d known. Maybe it would have been different.”

Kubodera was writing.

“Following your parents passing, did you ever consult a medical professional to deal with the grief and trauma?”

Oh.

“There were some papers on your exams following the accident. Did you have any more check ups after that?”

“...I,” Kai realized this might be bad.

A blind spot, hidden in plain sight.

“I did not.”

She was writing again.

His fears might have been realized. He was not sure. As if by the flip if a switch, his perspective shifted, the reality of the situation changed, and anxiety ate away at him.

“Might that,” He really wasn’t sure if he should ask. “Might that be a problem?”

He feared almost, that his voice was too quiet for her to hear.

It cannot have been however, for she stopped writing, and she looked at him, and she did not smile, and frankly, he might’ve felt insulted if she had.

“I cannot say. It’s still yet too early.”

Of course. He knew that. He knew that, but fear makes you forgetful and irrational.

“I understand.”

Kubodera went over her notes.

“You mentioned you felt you could have been closer to your relatives. Would you mind elaborating on that, briefly?”

 

 

 

 

 

 

When the door closed behind him, the sound was deafening in comparison to the tense low volumes he’d endured in what had felt like the longest hour of his life.

Kai looked at the clock on the wall again. It wasn’t even past 10:10.

It hadn’t even been a full hour just yet, and here he was, feeling like he’d aged a year or two, like he was ready to go home and go directly to bed and sleep for a few days.

He’d never understand how Aichi managed to work a conventional full-time job every day of his life, well, many days of his life, a barely related tenant, in his racing mind, the connection made sense; 9 to 5, documents and meetings, being coherent without fail in interpersonal exchanges, seminars- Kai’s life might as very well have depended on this one meeting, and he had emotionally prepared himself for weeks, and yet, right now, he was absolutely certain he had failed.

Speaking of Aichi, he was nowhere to be seen.

Kai sat down to await him, the lemon water no longer of even any remote interest.

His mouth might be dry, drier than before, but he felt like he couldn’t move any more than he absolutely needed, much less follow through with the chain of thought that’d lead him down that road.

He probably won’t be long, Kai thought, but also realized it didn’t actually matter. Anytime at all was too long, as well as too short, what should he say, what should he do?

Maybe he was getting a bit too worked up. He probably was. That’s what Aichi would say, anyway, to reassure him, and Aichi was usually right about those sort of things.

That thought helped. The minutes ticked by, he calmed down, at least a little, rationalized, at least a little.

 

 

 

 

 

 

As if retracing back time, the door had closed again. Kai returned to reality.

Aichi smiled at him carefully, crossing the room.

Kai realized he probably looked as worn as he felt, but it was 10 years too late to start caring about keeping up appearances.

“How did it go?”

Aichi had allowed Kai to speak first.

“It went alright, I think.” It had been long since Kai had seen him so humble.

“I hope.” Aichi added. “I got... a bit more nervous than I thought. I think I might have talked too much. But, I guess, we’re here so they can get to know us, so, I don’t think it should be a problem...”

All this time, Aichi had spent more time worrying about Kai than he had about himself. While reasonable in and of itself, he’d found himself a little less emotionally prepared than he thought.

Oversights will catch up to you. He didn’t regret anything perse, and perhaps it had been inevitable. He had learned his lesson.

“How about you?”

Aichi sounded carefully optimistic when asking.

When Kai adverted his eyes and as he failed to answer, Aichi sat down close to him. Feeling Aichi's hand on his back, Kai felt comfortable to speak.

“I’m not sure,” Kai said finally, “...I got through it. I answered as well as I could, but,”

Kai himself felt not unlike Aichi. He had talked quite a bit, but what had really been said?

“Did something happen?”

A door closed somewhere down the hall. There was some slight ongoing activity in the building, well beyond the walls of the waiting room.

Luckily however, they were alone.

“She asked about my parents, and,”

“Yeah?”

Kai wasn’t sure how to put it, but he decided that maybe it didn’t matter that much. “She asked about if I’d had any follow up after they passed, and I hadn’t, so.”

“Oh.” Aichi wasn’t fully sure what he’d expected. “Did it seem like it would be a problem?”

He’d assume as much with how Kai looked, but maybe a question could shatter his disillusion.

“I don’t know.” Kai responded truthfully. He looked at Aichi. “It seemed like it might. She wouldn’t tell me. She said that they can’t say anything yet.”

“I see.”

Back in the room, Kai had been longing to get in the car and get back home. Now he felt like he couldn’t leave, or he’d bring his demons back home with him.

“Did they ask you about the anniversary, too?”

Aichi lifted his head. “Huh?”

“She thought it was weird we didn’t, have a set anniversary.” Kai recounted what she’d noted. “I thought it was a bit... unexpected.”

Confused as well, Kai saw by his expression that Aichi was thinking. “I don’t-” He seemed to remember. “I wasn’t really asked about that.”

He seemed concerned. “Do you _think_ that will be a problem?”

Kai smiled a little. “No. I really don't think so.”

“He asked how we met, and honestly I sort of misunderstood the question, and,” Aichi grimaced a little. “And then I got embarrassed so, um, I didn’t elaborate too much on it after that...”

Kai could easily visualize it.

“He clarified, like, _No, I meant how you started dating,_ and I just said that it had been about ten years, and that seemed like it was fine, so...”

“I’m sure it was fine.” Kai felt a tad better. “It’s not like you were withholding information.”

“Well, not voluntarily,” Aichi sweated.

Time had ticked away.

All this time, there’d been yet another thing on his mind, eating away at Kai.

“Aichi,”

Addressed, Aichi stroke his back again. “Yeah?”

“I’m sorry. About before.”

“Huh? What do you mean?” If Kai had hurt him somehow, Aichi would absolutely know.

“I snapped at you." Kai turned to look at Aichi. “Earlier, when we were getting in the car. I, didn’t mean to do that. I’m sorry.”

“Oh.” Aichi smiled. “I know. It’s fine.”

“We were...” Aichi leaned on him just a little. “We were both pretty worked up. It happens.”

Kai didn’t like when it happened, but it felt good to apologize. It felt good to be able to move on and accept Aichi’s response.

They didn’t stay for much longer.

Kai got to have his lemon water, finally, and Aichi took his hand when they passed through the automatic doors to the parking lot.

 

 

 

 

 

 

It was a common misconception that working in education gave you time off in the summer, but that wasn’t really the case. The Tokyo University Department of Science carried out research all year around. Less seminars only meant more time for other activities.

While the collaborative effort was not on any large scale officially recognized, Aichi also spent a fair amount of time personally briefing and exchanging information with the Vanguard Association and the Tatsunagi Foundation. It was an unique role made possible only with Aichi’s specific skill sets and natural talents, outside of any work description, one that he had voluntarily shouldered. Initiated by himself and highly appreciated, it had quietly served mankind well over a number of years. In guise of simply being another of Todai’s lecturers and researchers, Aichi was closely keeping tabs on any incoming incidents or abnormalities that may affect Earth and its distant sister planet, Cray.

With late nights and work often brought home with him, Aichi was sometimes preoccupied weekdays and weekends alike.

On the contrary, Kai had more free time than usual this time of year. It was a fairly good combination. Not seldom absorbed in house work, Kai could put in even more time and effort than usual. When he traveled, he liked to be on the go. When he was home, he preferred to focus entirely on that. He was happy to make Aichi breakfast and dinner, to prepare his lunches and walk his dog, to wake him up in the morning, to do what he could to make his stressful days easier.

So when he got a call from Gaillard a Thursday afternoon, waking him from his usual 4 pm nap, he was weighting his options already before answering. An exhibition match or two, maybe a tournament invitation, something he might need to decline, or at least consider carefully. Such was his life now.

It was at the height of typhoon season and it was raining quite a bit outside.

They small talked for a bit, something Kai was bad at but Gaillard had mastered as an art form. Regardless, old fond friends make it worthwhile, and Kai was always happy to hear from him.

“To tell the truth, the reason I’m calling is because there’s something I want to ask you.”

Kai had expected this sooner or later. Despite his usually collected self, Gaillard sounded wound up. The previous small talk felt all the more precious in retrospect. Kai assumed this wouldn't be about an exhibition match.

“Or rather, it’s something I want to ask _you and Aichi.”_

Kai's hunch would turn out to be right, but his back-up guesses would all prove to be wrong.

“You know you can always talk to either of us,” Kai felt compelled to say, “Whatever it might be.”

“Yes,” Gaillard responded earnestly. “However, I’m afraid this might be too much to ask, even of you.”

Kai would prefer to remain unassuming. “Gaillard. What in the world?”

“First of all I’d like to apologize. This will be very sudden.”

Kai choose to simply listen.

“As things are, I don’t have any other options. Which is to say, you and Aichi are the only people right now who I trust enough to involve in this.” He sounded almost sad. “And I want you to know, I understand if there’s nothing you can do, or if you feel this is all wholly inappropriate, but...”

The rain whipped against the window. Whiskers the cat was still in Kai’s lap, yet unaware of strained conversation on the phone, and equally unaffected by the weather outdoors.

Gaillard sighed, and Kai realized it must be early morning in Paris, office hours just about opening.

“I’m sure you remember my work with the Parisian orphanages,” Gaillard knew there was no way Kai would forget, and not only because of the many years they’d spent together.

“Of course I do.” Kai was starting to realize the magnitude of the problem. “...Did something happen?”

“I need... help.” The sadness overflowed in his voice.

“It’s about a child.”

The house was as dimly lit as the clouds outside were heavy.

Kai soon realized this would be the longest night of his life.

It was days later, Sunday morning. Aichi took his coffee darker than usual that morning, up and about at an hour he usually wasn’t, surrounded by documents printed on the University printer littered with reddish scribbles and highlights.

“Civil union,” His voice was not quite as soft as it usually was, “Or marriage,” He flipped the page to double check. “Will then be a requirement.”

Kai was upset.

“Since foster is out of the question.” Aichi said, and he sounded let down, because this was all indeed quite complex.

Aichi smiled, nervous, because although he wasn’t sure why, he could read Kai well and saw that he was upset. Kai’s face would freeze up in a frown and he’d get quiet, contemplative, hard to press for any sort of reaction.

They’d been thrust into this so suddenly, it had transformed the prospect of their lives in a matter of hours. How important this was to them, and to Kai in particular, was of no question. Aichi had seen in Kai a level of resolve he did not quite recognize.

Yet, this had seemed to strike a nerve.

“Even if it wasn't, it would come with some risks, so,”

They only had so many options.

“I know.” Kai said quietly. “And we can’t afford that.”

With that statement, he seemed to come back to himself somewhat, while yet clearly disturbed. Aichi felt all the more pressed to ask.

“What’s the matter?”

Kai was looking the other way.

“I understand if- I mean,” Aichi realized maybe he’d asked too broad a question. “It’s been a stressful few days. Are you alright?”

Kai got up to get more coffee. “I’m fine. It’s,”

He didn’t want to lie. With his back to Aichi at the counter, he took a second, or two, to collect himself. Now really wasn’t the time.

“It’s not important. Not right now.”

That was the truth as he saw it.

“We can talk about it later.”

Aichi decided to trust him. “Alright.” He smiled.

“What we need to do is,” Kai returned to his seat, “Get rid of the foster papers.”

“Right,”

Aichi should still have them more or less sorted.

“Gaillard emailed me last just a few hours ago.” He’d kept telling them they could contact him at any hour. Kai had tried to not blow him up with messages.

“I hope he’s not losing too much sleep over this.” Aichi was a little worried, but the same time, he knew it was pointless to try and do anything about it. It was the same for him and Kai.

“I’ll tell him to contact me after he wakes up. After all, there’s only so much more information he can give us at this point.”

“Yeah...”

Aichi had tried to help as much as possible without taking too much time out of his work hours. Still, this was an exceptionally crucial few days of developments.

The worst part is, he didn’t want to talk about it in any detail with his coworkers, or with anyone. Not yet. It would only make things harder right now.

Gaillard had done everything within his capabilities to aid them. He'd taken full responsibility for his proposition.

However, the work would have to be on their end from now on.

Kai had his laptop open on the kitchen table.

“He deserves to know as soon as possible that we’ve made our minds up. About the adoption.”

Hearing and processing the words gave birth to a new reality.

A little sleep deprived, feeling somewhat sick, Aichi had absolutely had better days. His cup was empty, and he’d just thought of getting some more coffee as well, a fleeting unimportant thought, in the midst of everything.

In this brand new world that constructed itself before him, expanding with each passing second as reality dawned on him, the number of otherwise fleeting unimportant things only seemed to grow and grow- all in comparison to the fact that they’d made the decision to take upon themselves the burden of parenthood, if they so may.

Aichi felt dizzy. He was terrified and excited, and he was dizzy, and he leaned onto the table, holding his face in his hand.

If they were to back down, it had to be now, at this very moment.

The sound of the laptop keyboard keys as Kai composed his letter unnerved Aichi further, knowing that once he’d click send, it would be too late; but when he looked at Kai he saw him look so focused and collected.

Kai had already been through this stage. He’d already long realized.

It hit Aichi hard, so hard it knocked him straight out of himself, and with that, he arrived at a brand new position, with a brand new look-out.

“I’m sending it now,” Kai announced.

Aichi got up, quickly.

“Hang on. I want to read it.”

He hadn’t questioned the fact that the two of them would have to try and do whatever they could, but Aichi had for a split second felt that maybe they were making a mistake.

However, it had only been for that split second.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The first two days had been painfully slow, but after that, it was as if the week had rushed by without warning. There wasn’t really anything to prepare, or anything they could do, other than let the days pass.

Kai had steeled himself well, but the waiting was already taking a bit of a toll on him. It had started already when they’d been working on the application.

He knew what he wanted, and he knew what had to be done. In that he had no doubts, but elsewhere he had started to crack. He was certain it was just the stress. When the house inspection pre- evaluation documents were to be filled, he’d freeze up in any train of thought. A safe and nurturing environment, emotional support, positive reinforcement, combinations of words in compositions that filled him with an old and familiar sort of existential dread.

Aichi had picked up the pen where he’d left it in front of him on the dinner table.

Aichi saw him, and watched him, took his hand and took the words out of his mouth when it was hard to speak.

Again in the parking lot, again in the waiting room, again parting in the all-white hallways beyond the the windowed double doors.

Kai had felt like he could do anything, as long as Aichi was there support him.

He could only try to have faith that he could ride out this feeling, that the wounds that had opened would close yet again, and that the darkness wouldn’t swallow him back up.

Aichi’s hand slipped out of his grip, and he smiled, and Kai smiled back, too.

There was no turning back. Not now. That was not an option he’d ever consider.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The house inspection was carried out by a different lady.

It was a Tuesday afternoon, and it had been a hectic weekend. Kai liked to keep the house in order, and normally it wasn’t too difficult since it was just the two of them. Gloria hadn’t made any messes since she’d adjusted to her new home, and cat hairs on the furniture aside, there wasn’t much to worry about.

Aichi had a habit of dropping his clothes on the floor, or mixing lights and darks in the laundry baskets, or forgetting to finish what he started, leaving his tea cups on the table or things from work laying around. The sort of things that weren’t really problems at all, if you looked at the bigger picture of things.

With no third party to come along and pop their paranoia filled bubble, Kai and Aichi spent the majority of the weekend turning their home upside down, only to put it back in order again, trying to observe every detail with the eyes of an outsider.

Aichi had gone to work on Monday like usual, but it had been an unproductive day. He hadn’t been able to focus very much. Tuesday he had taken the entire day off. He had offered coming in to work in the afternoon, but had been told to stay home. Once Tuesday arrived, he was thankful.

At 12:27, a few minutes early, the doorbell rang.

The house tour went well, no question too unexpected.

It almost went too well. Kai felt awkwardly riddled with worries, for when inquired about possible problems, possible fallacies, he really had nothing to say, beyond that things were good, almost painfully ordinary.

Their routines, their house, their location. The car was fairly new from a few years back, more than big enough for a family of three, ran well and while Aichi did not have a license, Kai had at worst accumulated a few parking tickets over the years. Gloria was a rescue, and a mutt, some sort of retriever and border collie mix, but she didn’t chew up anything except her toys, she didn’t bark at strangers or other dogs and she was good with children. Aichi had always been more lenient with her, but Kai had her well trained and overall she was obedient. The cats were all strays, and they might occasionally yell at night, or claw at the upstairs bathroom door, or attack your feet, but those were just the sort of things that cats did.

They spoke some of the layout of the house. Aichi commented that he liked the open and light living room, and how it was nice how it connected to the kitchen because Kai cooks so much and all, and also it’s rather European, and seeing they’d both lived in Europe and overseas when they were younger it helped make them feel at home. The bottom floor had an additional room, technically perhaps meant as a living room, by them used as a sitting room or for when they had a need for more quiet exchanges with guests or visitors and it could double as a guest room if needed. The bookshelves held Kai’s collection of foreign cookbooks, and when Aichi worked from home on weekends, Kai would shut the door behind him and lay on the couch for his afternoon nap.

Two bathrooms, one on the top floor and one on the bottom. One bath upstairs.

It was all very unremarkable. 

They’d purchased this house, knowing it was a bit big for just the two of them, but Aichi really wanted to get a dog, and, they’d talked about someday possibly having a family.

Which was to say, Kai had, in the early morning hours, one day many years ago, untangled his deeply rooted fears and feverish dreams, of children he didn’t know if he deserved, of a parental role he didn’t know if he could ever fill, and Aichi had mostly just listened and taken it all in.

Kai’s memories of his parents were faded. He had been able to move on, and pick himself up, but he wondered, and he sought, and he reflected all that he could on what he could remember of his family. When he was younger, he never would have considered it, never could have imagined ever possibly pursuing being a parent, to the extent of where he’d never in any way entertained the idea.

However, thing had changed. He had changed, and just as importantly, he had Aichi now. It opened up to new possibilities he’d never before even realized existed.

You only buy so many houses in your life. So without even discussing it much, they’d made their decision. 

The second floor had a second bedroom, across the hall from the bathroom, windows facing the same direction as the living room with a view of the grass path outside and with morning sun. It didn’t have a name and they’d mostly used it as storage. Things from Kai’s old apartment, things they’d picked up during the few years they spent together in France, things Aichi’s mother had passed onto him. While the room was not terribly full by any means, they’d made an effort to clean it out the week before.

Emi had come by to help. She and Aichi had together cleaned out boxes of old things from their childhood home. When Emi was around, Aichi had a tendency to revert, morph into someone who was not the Aichi that Kai knew first-hand as his partner in life, as an accomplished Vanguard fighter, as an esteemed researcher at Japan's foremost University. Instead, he became the son of a well-meaning but not-seldom oblivious mother and the brother of a stern sister who did all she could to compensate.

Aichi would let Emi boss him around, and Emi, who was normally so sweet and kind, wouldn’t hold back against him in the slightest. Kai found it interesting, and as an only child he could not relate perhaps, but he could understand. Siblings build their own dynamics, pave their own routes to support each other in whichever way they needed.

Kai could still clearly remember the first time Emi had spoken over Aichi to him. It had been like a pact of trust, clearly she was engaging him into her role of caring for her elder brother and Kai treasured the gesture, regardless of how clueless the situation might have rendered him. In the end, it had only served as a way for Kai to bounce the word back to Aichi, and such he had realized his role as a mediator. 

While Emi may never grow out of her tendency to treat Aichi like a baby for better or worse, this time things had been a bit different.

Within the four walls of the small bedroom on that day, surrounded by accumulated memories of years past, Aichi was focused and orderly. Emi was contemplative, observant, and she adapted. She had been the first to learn of their plans, to hear the story, and for them she had a lot of love and support, but she also voiced her worries when appropriate.

Kai knew Emi could absolutely be delicate, and that she, in the end, had a great amount of faith in her brother. Perhaps it rivaled Kai’s own.

It made sense, of course. Emi who had been with him in his worst times, and in his best.

The room had cleared quick enough, and Kai had driven Emi back to the Sendou family home a mere hour or two away, depending on traffic.

Kai had come to adore her, perhaps due to her proximity to Aichi alone, and while the shared silence in the car that day had started off awkward, by the end of it, Kai felt as if they shared a new sort of solidarity.

Now, the second bedroom on the second floor was almost eerily empty. Inhibited with the ghost of their mismatched old belongings, it was now a large a gaping entity, which existence only served to remind them of what was missing. Walking on the hard wood floors, the sounds of them creaking resonated only the way an empty room in a modern building could.

Aoyama was the name of the lady who carried out the inspection. She had a careful look around the room where there was nothing to see.

Kai wondered if they had been too fast to throw all the stuff out. Maybe it was silly or came off as desperate or delusional. The week before he’d felt as if they couldn’t clean it out fast enough, channeling their feelings of helplessness into the one thing they could control.

Maybe they should have gotten furniture, even if they’d have to throw it out later to accommodate, or because it didn’t fit or wasn’t good enough. However, maybe then they would have seemed inflexible instead.

Regardless, the empty room felt wrong.

“Um, it’s not a very big room, but,” Aichi had felt pressed to speak. “The morning light from the window is quite nice.”

“I see.” She approached the window.

“The walls are white right now, but we’ve been thinking of painting them a different color.” Aichi admitted.

“That’s a good idea.”

Aoyama was a nice lady, and she was very professional. She appeared to not be far from retirement.

Kai brewed them tea in the pot that was part of the Japanese tea set Aichi’s mother had gifted them. It was the first and so far only wedding gift they’d acquired from their ceremony-free union.

Suitably, perhaps, it was the first time they’d used it.

In closing, they conversed. About how animals could be great for the development of children, how the location and communication were good in providing for a child, about how the living arrangements overall were quite good indeed.

“However, in order to accommodate an infant, there’s a number of adjustments needed.”

“Oh.” Aichi wasn’t sure how surprised he should be. “We’re not, um, intending to adopt an infant. We are only interested in older children.”

“Oh.” Aoyama mirrored his reaction.

“Or to be specific, there’s a certain case we are interested in,” Aichi clarified. “Or, that is our, well, our intention, or so to say.”

“She’s,” Kai spoke up quietly. “She’s six.”

“I understand.” Aoyama made her notes. “However, if your requirements should change, please be aware that ours will as well.”

“Yes. We understand.”

Kai and Aichi both hoped it would not come to that.

The inspection ended on time and had appeared to have gone well.

After the door closed there was a breath of relief that lasted for a few hours.

Then, the next countdown started.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The monthly calendar on the fridge hadn’t seen much use up until that one rainy summer night. Now, they days were being crossed out one by one as they came and went.

Kai’s phone rang one afternoon a few days after the last scheduled individual meeting. It was an unlisted number, so he knew right away. Aichi had been watching TV, and when he heard the phone, he reached for the remote. The television muted, he headed towards the kitchen.

As Kai put the phone to his ear, Aichi was already next to him. They looked at one another without a word.

“Yes, hello?”

Aichi couldn’t hear the person on the other line.

“Yes, that’s right.”

They were supposed to be informed per mail. So this was unexpected, and Aichi didn’t like that.

“Yes, _we,”_

Kai had paused. He was clearly thinking. Aichi could only vaguely hear someone speaking, but could not make out any words.

“Oh,” 

Kai’s expression shifted with a wince of pain, his eyes now downcast.

“...I,” His voice quiet, he turned his head. Aichi saw him blink repeatedly. “I see.”

Aichi could do nothing but stand by him, and as he reached to hold on to him, Kai lost his height, paling, hand to his face.

“Do you have any idea how,” Kai visibly struggled to speak. “Do you have any idea how long that might take?”

Time was a factor.

Chatter.

“I see.”

More chatter.

“I understand.”

“Thank you.”

For a second or two, Kai didn’t move. He slowly removed the phone from his ear, dazed.

“What did they say?” Aichi asked. Kai turned away from him.

“Hey, Kai,” Aichi leaned onto him, “What did they say?” He asked, more softly than before.

Kai let his forehead hit the kitchen cupboard. He shut his eyes tightly.

“They,” He breathed shakily. “They said that,”

“Yeah?” Aichi held him, arms lightly around him.

“They said that they needed additional medical papers,” His voice was shaking now, too. “On me, and on my,”

Kai bargained with himself. It was hard to speak. He tried to relax.

“They want me to get a psychological evaluation.”

His eyes fell down, but it was hard to see, and the tears that clouded his vision were impossible to hold back as Aichi reached up to hug him, arms over and around his shoulders. 

Aichi heard him sob dryly, and held him tightly. Kai returned the embrace with a force and strength Aichi hadn’t felt in a long, long time.

Kai cried quietly, and his hands dug into the fabric of the back of Aichi’s shirt.

“Hey,” Aichi whispered, fingers in Kai’s hair.

Kai just sobbed, but he relaxed, if only a little.

“It’ll work out,” Aichi said, “They just need more information, is all.”

Aichi pulled away, just a little. He gently held Kai’s face in his hand, and wiped his tears.

“You know what?” He asked, quietly, and Kai’s downcast eyes met his. He couldn’t manage to respond, but Aichi hadn’t expected him to.

“This doesn’t mean they don’t think you’ll make a great parent.” Aichi saw Kai’s lip tremble. “It’s unfortunate. But it’s just a formality.”

“How,” Kai’s voice was barely audible. “How can you say that?”

“I know you. I’m not worried.” Aichi stroke his cheek, and he saw that Kai was listening, taking his words in, but they almost seemed to make him sadder.

“I don’t,” Kai sighed. “I don’t know.”

Aichi gave him a little time.

“I don’t know,” Kai repeated, “It’s as if,”

“I don’t feel like myself. It’s like I’m reverting back to how I used to be. It’s, it doesn’t,”

“...I don’t think that’s so strange.” Aichi reassured him, and Kai was genuinely surprised.

He’d thought that admitting he felt like he was regressing would land much heavier on Aichi.

It was strange, and he didn’t know what to say.

“What I mean is, I think it’s more or less expected,” Aichi brushed the hair out of his face, “To be stressed, to be upset, to be worried... To feel insecure and to cry, a little, or a lot.”

The words connected, linking together, and in his arms, Aichi felt Kai relax just a little.

“I think anyone would, you know.” Aichi laid his head on his shoulder. “None of this is easy. And I know how important this is to you.” 

Kai was stuck in his daze, the words made sense, but he wasn’t sure if that was just because he really wanted them to.

It was true, Kai knew, that Aichi knew him better than anyone, and that it was true too, that he really wanted this, more than almost anything.

So maybe things did add up.

In the end, it all came back to the beginning. His own deeply rooted insecurities and his doubts painted to him a picture where any agency’s judgments, or even Aichi’s faith in him, held no ground whatsoever, if he were to fail himself, if his shortcomings became too much to bear.

“You know what?”

Aichi’s words shattered his train of thought.

“What?”

“The reason I feel like I can do this is because of you.”

 _That doesn’t make any sense,_ Kai thought. He still had tears in his eyes.

“I never would have dared to ever do anything like this, if I weren’t doing it with you.”

Kai felt the same way, which was why it didn’t make any sense to him. Aichi was so sweet, and so caring, so good at listening, he had a calming influence on everyone around him. Kai had never doubted that with a little experience, Aichi had everything it took to be a great dad.

“That’s because, on my own, I could never provide for a child like this. I could never give them everything they needed.”

Kai’s hands were still creating creases on Aichi’s shirt. His head drooping, Kai leaned against Aichi, feeling his hair pressing against the side of his face. 

“Children need to be understood. And I could never truly understand what it’s like, to lose everything.”

The phone laid cold on the kitchen counter. His chest hurting, Kai held his breath.

“But, I know you can. I know you can do what hardly anyone else could.”

Kai held Aichi tighter again. He felt the urge to cry coming back.

“So don’t worry so much. I know you can do it.”

 

 

 

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains some references to the Legion Mate story mode from _Stride to Victory,_ but I wouldn't consider having played the game a requirement to understand the story.
> 
> If I did, then that would be pretty inconsiderate seeing as I'd estimate about 0.03% of the English-speaking fandom to have actually played this game. All you need to know is that takes place after the conclusion of the main LG story arc but before the 2-episode epilogue in the anime and exists mostly to tie some loose ends together.

 

 

 

 

 

 

It only took about two weeks to get an appointment. The appointment was in the afternoon, so after Kai was done driving Aichi to work, done driving back home and done having lunch he still had a few hours left to sit around and be anxious.

Gloria got an extra walk that day, and her oblivious enthusiasm did manage to distract Kai a little. The drive was about an hour and a half. A nice building outside the central city, with automatic glass doors and carpeting inside the elevators. The waiting room had a coffee machine. Kai found that a bit fascinating, but didn’t feel comfortable enough to try it out.

Still, in terms of a first impression he felt more comfortable here than at the agency.

The psychiatrist was a woman in her forties, Kai might assume.

He hadn’t thought too much about what kind of person to expect, he’d been more concerned with the questions to come.

He hadn’t seen many doctors in his life.

The reason behind the appointment had been made clear, and was made clear once more, and Kai wondered if dealing with social workers or medical professionals or such folk was always just an endless loop of confirming and reaffirming information over and over.

Maybe he had just been lucky so far in his life, never having had to deal with bureaucracy beyond the bare minimum of things. Say, applying for his driver’s license. His luggage was lost once going back to his old Paris flat, and getting it back had taken some half a dozen Air France forms and the equal amount of phone calls. That was probably the worst he’d previously experienced.

“I’m sorry, but,” Kai wasn’t sure why he was apologizing. “I’d like to know, roughly, how many sessions to you think it’ll take before you have the material you need?”

Bespectacled, the psychiatrist, named Habara, sat with her legs crossed and leaning a little to the side, generally a lot more relaxed than he’d remembered Kubodera.

“Oh, I’m sorry to say I cannot say.”

The usual answer.

“I’ll need to get to know you, so it’ll take us at least a few hours. How many sessions we need depends on how much there is to know, and how long it’ll take to cover it all.”

“As you may be aware, we’re a little bit pressed for time,”

She actually smiled. “I understand. I’ll try to be concise.”

Kai hadn’t expected that.

His mind cleared up.

“So, in terms of the assessment, there was a specific reason as to why such a thing was requested, yes?”

Kai wondered how blunt he should be.

“Well. When I was a child, when I was about seven years old, my parents abruptly passed away.”

Kai realized that, to this day, he hadn’t spoken of it very much.

To Aichi, sure, to his friends, barely.

It was always inconvenient. It still confused him, it still hurt him. Maybe he would learn to ignore it, but he had never expected those feelings to ever go away.

“I never received any sort of professional support then. They thought it might be necessary.”

The assessment was necessary, that is. Kai hoped she understood that was what he’d meant.

“Was there any specific reason why you didn’t get that support?”

“Well, I,” Kai had never asked himself that question before. “It wasn’t addressed.”

Habara was quiet.

“I was adopted by relatives. So I guess it would be more appropriate to say they didn’t address it. We didn’t ever really. Talk about it.”

“I’d consider that an oddity. Normally you’d expect a follow up. Grief can take its toll, especially on children. Naturally you exhibited signs of such?”

“....” Exhibited? Kai got a bit stuck on that word. “I don’t know. I suppose so. I became... withdrawn.”

“Withdrawn?”

“I, I guess they thought that was to be expected.”

Habara took notes for the first time. She wrote quite quickly. “So, you were neglected a proper follow up, based on the assumption that your reaction to the situation was moderate?”

“I...” Having his childhood described like that felt alien. “I guess so, yes.”

“How were you as a child, Mr. Kai?”

He wasn’t sure were to begin.

“You mean before, or...?”

“Yes, before and after. As far back as you can remember.”

Kai didn’t think about his childhood that much, at least not voluntarily. He only had so many memories he liked to return to.

Days in the park, after school, or in the summer, back then they’d been too hot or too dusty, now he remembered them as sun-kissed and troubleless. His mother’s voice whenever she scolded him for his recklessness, which he’d heard as anger, now he knew it had been concern. His father’s questions and inquiries, which he’d felt were unnecessary and annoying, he’d learned were curious and well-meaning.

Miwa, who’d twist his arm to get him on the right track of things, which he’d thought of as intrusive, only to realize it had showed just how well Miwa knew him and what he needed. Ibuki who’d cry at every little thing and always needed reassuring, back then he’d thought of it as a bother, but now he remembered it as endearing and as proof of the trust between them.

To think that after all these years Miwa and Ibuki were still in his life, that they were both no more than a line message or phone call away, that things hadn’t changed that much despite how much they’d changed. What was that, if not proof that he had not been forsaken. It made their friendships feel special.

“...I was a pretty outgoing when I was young.” Kai knew it might be hard to tell. “Maybe a bit too outgoing. To the extent of where it maybe wasn’t always... appreciated, or, it became awkward.”

“Did you have trouble making friends?” She asked without reflecting, a sign that this was indeed, her profession.

Kai hadn’t asked himself that question in terms of his early childhood. 

“Yes, and no, I think.”

She waited for him to elaborate.

“I didn’t naturally fit in that well with other kids. I was a little obnoxious. But I did make friends, and generally I got along with my peers.”

“Did you ever get in trouble?” Habara’s automatic pencil rested for a short while.

Kai wondered what she meant by trouble. He assumed it meant getting into fights or skipping school.

“No, not really.” If anything, he had remembered himself as a kid who believed himself to be above those type of things. “I could be... vocal about my opinions. Which sometimes caused conflicts. But I disliked fighting. I wanted to behave.”

“I see. So despite feeling that you didn’t fit in, you were able to make friends, and you behaved well in school.”

She was taking her notes.

“I didn’t make many friends, but.” Kai didn’t want to exaggerate his problems too much. “But I was quite close with the ones I did have. In fact, I,”

She looked up.

“I am still close with my two best friends from that time. We... reconnected in high school, and they’ve stuck around.”

“Oh, I see. That’s nice to hear.”

She smiled.

“You were able to stay connected to them, despite everything.”

“Well.” Kai didn’t want to take credit where it hadn’t been earned. “It wasn’t all much thanks to me.”

Habara looked at him attentively.

“Especially one of my friends, he,” He knew what to say, and yet he had to pause. “He always looked after me. Both before and after we reconnected. I... owe him a lot. I was hardly all that cooperative, especially when we were teenagers.”

She wrote. Kai felt the words pile up inside him, stacking.

“I also met, my,” It was still a little hard to say. “My husband around that time.”

“When you were a teen?”

“Oh,” They were branching out on a number of topics. “No. I meant, before then, when I was young. Before my parent’s passing.”

“So you two are childhood friends?” She said no more than that, but Kai could tell she thought it was sweet.

He was a little embarrassed.

“Well... not quite.” He wished he could say they were. No doubt they would have been, if things hadn’t happened the way they had.

Kai had hardly ever explored any alternative ways his life may have taken. He’d hardly seen any reason. He couldn’t change the past, so why would he? However, that brief misunderstanding had Kai lament a lost childhood that could have been spent with Aichi.

Oh, how different things could have been.

“Back then, we never really had a chance to actually get to know each other.”

“Was there any specific reason for that?”

Kai assumed she wasn’t just asking because she was curious.

“We went to different schools. So, we met, and I wanted,” Kai had paused, partially reflecting, partially frozen. “To be friends with him, but, that didn’t happen until I moved back.”

“You moved?”

Kai realized he hadn’t mentioned that properly.

“Yes. My relatives lived in another part of the city. I transferred schools.”

“So, on top of losing your parents, you lost the security of your school, your friends and teachers?”

“...”

For the first time since entering the door, Kai lost himself in the moment, and he seemed to become an observer to his own life. Suddenly, he was more aware of the hardwood floors, of the skyline visible from the window, of the specific shade of peach on the walls, and the slight whirring of the computer fan, than he was of any circumstance of pressing importance, the questions and their meaning, his past, his present, and his future.

“I...” He didn’t know what to say. “Suppose so.”

“How did this affect you? How were you doing?”

Kai was quiet, contemplative, and more so than ever before, saddened.

Even if only for a split second, he relived it, he relived the shock, the fear, the all-numbing devastation, the stretching shadows of the unending darkness.

“In the shock,” He tried to find his voice. “Of my parent’s passing, I suppose, I didn’t think too much about,”

Habara wasn’t writing, she listened.

“About moving, or transferring schools.”

“At first, it might have even felt natural, better than staying behind. Everything continuing as normal, might have felt even more like a burden. But maybe it just prolonged, everything.”

He realized he was rambling a little.

“I don’t know,” He admitted.

Habara was writing again.

“I moved back. As soon as I could.” Kai added. “Because I wanted to move out as soon as possible. And I guess I went back, because, those parts, were to me, like home. In a way.”

“So you didn’t consciously want to go back, as much as you felt that you had nowhere else to go?”

“I... don’t know.” He said again. “Maybe.”

Thinking about it now, of course he had wanted to go back, but it was also a matter of not really having any other option.

His family was gone. His old friends he hadn’t seen in so long he had since long stopped considering them his friends, even if the opposite hadn’t been true.

There was comfort in familiar places, familiar streets. There was comfort in familiar faces too, even if he had considered himself friendless.

Kai realized just exactly how differently wired he had been back then. Wanting to see the places and the people he’d left behind, without thinking anymore beyond that, without expecting anything in return whatsoever.

Things were starting to make some more sense.

“After you relocated,” Habara haltered Kai’s line of thought, “At your new school, how were you doing? You said before that you became withdrawn.”

“Thinking back, I,” He wasn’t sure where to start. “I guess I was in no real shape to go back to school.”

“How were you feeling at the time?”

“I was,” Kai wasn’t very frivolous when it came to describing his moods or feelings. “Still in shock. It was... dark. I saw no real end to it.”

“Were you depressed, anxious? Distant, numb?”

“I...” Luckily, Habara knew what words to use. “Yes.”

“That would describe it... well.”

Habara was quiet for a moment, just in case Kai felt like elaborating.

He didn’t.

“And what was your family’s reaction to this?”

Kai couldn’t really remember there being any particular reaction.

“They didn’t know me very well. Perhaps they didn’t know what to look for.”

Habara seemed concerned. She took her notes.

Of course, if Kai had gotten the professional support he would have needed back then, he wouldn’t be here. That had been the premise of their meeting. So that line of questioning would be a dead end.

“They didn’t ever talk to you? To reach out to support or help you?”

“In the beginning,” Kai’s memories of this time were fuzzy. It all seemed to bleed together. “I think, I can remember, they tried, at least, to talk to me, and comfort me, but,”

“But I must have been pretty unresponsive,” He hadn’t know what to say, or how to act, around these people he had up until then only known very superficially. “And I wasn’t comfortable reaching out to them. So it all sort of, dissolved into nothing.”

Kai would realize now, he had also been pretty good at adapting, at hiding, at not drawing attention to himself; and even more so he'd been good at hiding what he was going through.

“I also guess I,” He thought of putting it into words. “Was somewhat unwilling to be helped.”

“It’s concerning they didn’t reach out to you more.” Habara didn’t look up from her notepad. “The responsibility does not lay on the child to reach out to their guardian.”

Kai knew that. That much was common sense. Yet, he’d never seemed to have been able to make that connection for himself regarding his own past circumstances.

“I imagine it must have been very hard for you to fulfill your education like that, or make any friends.”

Habara’s tone had changed somewhat, but it would be wrong to say that she merely sounded concerned or sympathetic. No, it was more professional than that.

Kai might have said she sounded somewhat appalled, even.

“Well, I. I did make friends,” Kai wan’t very eager to dig into yet another chapter of his life. “Or, it was more like. Friendship was... thrust upon me.”

Might as well get it over with, he thought.

“I played Vanguard, already back then. Had been for a while.”

“Oh, yes.” Habara smiled. “So I’ve heard.”

Not an appropriate topic at this moment, they both knew.

“Yes. One of classmates got into it as well. He coerced me into playing with him. At first,” Kai remembered Ren from that time with almost eerily vividly, unlike so much else. “We didn’t really, get along, but, we were friends. For a while.”

Kai might describe himself as peculiar. Ren was even more so, and he always had been.

While he had since long come to terms with what happened between them back then, Kai still felt his head spin a little when he remembered those days. Ren had always seemed to plunge the world around him into some delirious, twisted state, even if only ever so slightly. Psyqualia or not, that was just who Ren was. Although Kai considered him a friend, he couldn’t claim to fully understand him or the laws which he lived by.

Of course, it wasn't like he was always unpleasant. However, many of the memories they shared were, without a doubt, and no matter how much time passed, that wouldn’t change.

“Did something happen?” Habara asked, having allowed Kai a moment of silent introspection.

“He,” Kai thought back, to the one thing that had torn them apart. “Changed.”

“He had his own problems,” Kai continued, weighting his options, on how to retell this particular series of events. “Which I couldn’t help him with. He ended up in a bad place.”

“Do you mind telling me what happened?”

Kai supposed he couldn’t get away with a story like that. Which was probably for the best.

“We played Vanguard. A lot.” Almost ironically, that was were it had started. Both the good and the bad. “We both started becoming more and more competitive. That was when he started changing.”

“He became distant and cold. Before then he’d been bright and friendly. I tried to break through to him, but I couldn’t. We drifted apart. I blamed myself for what had happened to him.”

The friendship they’d shared, before Ren’s dubious side had rooted itself and started growing, had been his one source of happiness and warmth at the time.

He’d felt powerless. 

“You blamed yourself?”

“As I kid, it made sense.” He hadn’t even considered anything else. Although he would have liked to, had tried to, he hadn’t been able to let go of the feelings of guilt.

“It wasn’t really... my fault.”

It felt so strange to say. It was relieving.

Kai smiled weakly.

“I thought that if, I’d been stronger, I could have kept him from going down that path. To keep him from becoming that sort of person. And maybe there’s some truth to that, but in the end, that’s also the sort of, inclination he has.” That much could easily be said now, after all these years, when they were adults. It hadn’t been like that back then. “Maybe it was inevitable.”

“And after that, you cut connections with him completely?”

“Yes, I did.”

“And you didn’t try and make any more friends after that?”

“I didn’t, no.”

There was a pressing silence like the one Kai had experienced before. Whatever drive he’d had, he felt like he’d lost it.

“At the time,” She of course had more questions. Kai wondered for how much longer this would go on, not that he necessarily wanted it to end. Because that would just mean more questions to be asked at a later time. “How would you say that affected you?”

Kai let a quiet sigh slip.

“I think, back then,” He paused involuntarily, “I’d thought of it as returning to a status quo, as of going back to normal. But that wasn’t really the case. It hurt me.”

“It hurt you?”

Kai preferred to not have the answers dragged out of him. He decided to try and speak a bit more freely, despite being as uncomfortable as he was.

“It was around then that I really started questioning myself,” He tried not to pause. “In the sense of, meaning that, maybe-”

Habara waited patiently, but Kai wouldn’t have any of it.

He’d tensed up something terribly.

“I, I started thinking that, I probably shouldn’t be,” It was hard to say. “Around people.”

He tried to breathe, but it was hard. It was too loud, and his voice might shake.

“What I mean is,” He knew he had to try and explain, and although he wasn’t eager to, he wanted to get it over with.

He’d known they’d get here eventually. He just hadn't expected it would be so soon.

“I hadn’t been good at making friends in the first place. And the ones I had I’d all left behind.” His voice had become all quiet like he’d feared it would. “My parents were gone, and other family didn’t reach out to me. And even after I’d made a new friend, I couldn’t be there for him or help him.”

It was a different kind of silence that befell them as he’d stopped speaking.

“So I reached the conclusion that I should,” He fought the need to breathe. “Stay away from others.”

“Thinking about my old life only hurt. And making new friends only made it worse. Is what I thought. So it was easiest to isolate myself.”

Habara was writing quite a bit.

Kai felt bad. He felt bad, because he still hadn’t quite told the full story.

“I,”

Habara stopped writing, as if she hadn’t expected him to start talking again.

“I felt guilty.”

“Maybe it doesn’t make much sense in hindsight, but I did. For failing my friends, and for not being strong enough to carry the burden.”

“That’s a common occurrence. It’s easy to take a step back years later and rationalize, but it is different as things are still happening to you.”

Kai took those words in, but he had nothing to say in response. He shifted in his seat and his body felt weary and heavy, and he turned to look at the skyline. No thoughts came to his mind, but when he saw his own reflection in the glass, he turned away.

He still felt like he’d only just brushed on a subject, on an issue, that had ran much, much deeper.

However, it was a start. It was something.

He still feared that darkness, and he feared now in a way he hadn’t in a very long time.

“After you started alienating yourself even more,”

Habara was flipping back and forth between her notes. It felt nice to hear someone else’s voice after only having listened to his own.

“How did you fare?”

His middle school days had passed by mostly without incident after he cut ties from Ren, at least externally.

It was a few years that he had little memory of.

“I was miserable.” There was really no other way of putting it. “I wanted to improve, in my own way, I suppose.”

“You wanted to improve?”

“I wanted to be more reliable, and stronger. I thought if I could be stronger, then my problems would go away, and I wouldn’t be so miserable anymore.”

It didn’t really make sense, did it? He felt stupid. 

“I guess I’d grown to,” At this point, he couldn’t go back. “Hate myself.”

“I thought I was weak and unreliable. That there was no reason for me to be around. That feeling terrified me. So I did what I could to deal with it.”

“Which was?”

Had she hesitated to ask? Kai had probably just imagined it.

“Other than shutting myself away, this was when I got really engrossed with Vanguard. my relationship with the game changed.” He realized it might seem unrelated. “Before then I’d mostly played for fun. Winning was fun too of course, and losing could be tough, but, I, I started thinking of it all differently, since well, Re- I mean, my friend, who I had just lost, he and I, we ended up being pretty competitive, and I thought, that, if I’d just been able to keep up with him, then maybe, things would’ve been different.”

They probably would have been, at least for a while.

It was another alternate route in his life, one Kai felt next to no interest in exploring.

In the end Ren was who he was, and there wasn’t much Kai could do to change that.

“So I guess Vanguard became my outlet. I kept wanting to get better. And I couldn’t bear the thought of losing again. I thought if I did, then I’d really be useless.”

“Equating all your selfworth into specific aspects of your life is more common than a lot of people realize.”

That didn’t really make Kai feel better.

Before he felt like he hadn’t said enough. Now he felt the other way around.

Speaking of making yourself vulnerable, Kai thought, he felt as if the approval from the agency was drifting away further and further the more he exposed about himself and his past.

“I suppose, for a while, I started doing better.” Kai continued.

“After all, I had natural talent when it came to Vanguard. I’d gained the focus to put in whatever extra work that was needed. I started building myself up.”

“If I remember correctly, you were doing very well for yourself competitively already when you were quite young.”

“I was.”

Kai wasn’t very interested in hearing how much she knew or didn’t know about his career. It embarrassed him.

“When I was in high school, I got into big arenas and tournaments. Back then, I was still very unhappy with myself, and in general. But I hadn’t really seen it that way. I’d thought I was doing alright. It was... relative.”

“I understand.”

After that, Habara was quiet for a little while, as she took her notes.

Kai’s line of thought had run out of coherency. He was exhausted. 

Habara had noticed.

“We still have time. But I feel like this might be a pretty good place to wrap up. What do you think?”

Kai didn’t really have any strong feelings either way at this point. “I see. Well. I think that might be a good idea.”

Habara smiled.

“I feel like we managed to cover quite a lot. When would it be possible to schedule a second appointment?”

In the end, they scheduled two more sessions, just in case.

Kai felt better that way. There was no point in dragging this out too long.

Habara held the door for him and walked him to the waiting room.

They said their regards, and the lady by the registration desk appeared to notice Kai eyeing the coffee machine, and she suggested he try it.

When he grabbed the steering wheel in the car, trying to regain a non retroactive perspective of his life, he regretted declining.

It couldn’t have hurt, right?

While he was driving home, his phone rang. He didn’t like being on the phone while he was driving, but in his partially dazed, partially hyper-aware state, he picked up without thinking when he saw that it was Gaillard calling him.

They spoke briefly.

Gaillard was sharp in the early morning of his native France, and in comparison Kai felt like his head had been through a wringer.

Unlike himself, Gaillard was soberly optimistic.

He had faith.

Gaillard always had faith, he had faith in the good and in the righteous, in the good turnouts and in the happy endings. Which was to say, he had character, and he had a strong will and dedication to match.

Kai admired that.

By the time they hung up, by the time he was in the drive way, and by the time he was home, Kai could lie down to rest, take his afternoon nap with a clear mind and with fewer thoughts and fears haunting him.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The door slammed, and Kai woke up with a jolt. It was dark, and as he registered Gloria passing him, tail wagging, her paws clicking against the floor, he remembered he had fallen asleep just as he’d gotten home, and realized he’d slept for too long.

He heard Aichi’s voice, talking to Gloria, heard him put his jacket away and put down his bag, and Kai made an effort to actually wake up. He felt more than a little dazed.

Aichi came into the living room, and after he turned on the lights, he laughed just a little. Kai realized it must be because of how he looked.

“I’m sorry, did I wake you?”

“It’s fine.” He managed to sit up, rubbing his face.

“How are you?” Aichi unloaded his things, Gloria trampling around at his feet. She was no doubt hungry.

“I’m okay.” He sounded relatively convinced of that himself. “It’s just,”

His body felt unbelievably heavy. “Sorry. It’s already so late. I didn’t make dinner or anything.” 

“Oh, don’t worry.” Aichi reassured him. “We’ll figure something out. Besides, it looks like you needed that rest.”

Sometimes, Kai wondered how he’d feel if Aichi got angry or upset with him at times like this. It wasn’t that Aichi was never angry with him, it was just never over things like this.

Kai believed he’d become able to judge himself, rationalize his own reactions and emotional responses. Perhaps he had, but Aichi was still much his regulator, and the basis for much if not all of his own introspection, on when and when not to berate or reprimand himself. He’d just learned to internalize it.

Maybe he was at fault for falling asleep and failing to make dinner, or maybe he wasn’t; If Aichi said he wasn’t then he’d be ready to believe that to be true. Of course, it was all relative. It wasn’t that he was unaware of that. It was the opposite.

What if the circumstances had been different. What if they’d had a child.

Kai was still in a daze when he heard Aichi open the fridge. “We should still have those leftovers I forgot to bring to work.”

Aichi could be forgetful, but never when it came to what really mattered to him, not when it came to Vanguard or the University of Tokyo’s Astronomy Departments’ seminar schedule or research agreements.

“Yeah,” Kai responded without reflecting. “Unless they went bad.”

Kai heard the oven running, and he heard Aichi turn and walk towards him.

Aichi sat close to him, crossing his legs. Kai got a good look at his face.

“How did it go today, huh?” He asked, and it was as if Aichi's voice was always sweeter and softer than Kai was ever able to remember.

He sighed, and spoke truthfully.

“It went alright, I think. It was, exhausting, though.”

“Yeah,” Aichi smiled carefully. “I can imagine.”

Instead of waiting for him to ask, Kai spoke on his own accord.

“The physician, she was, sympathetic, I suppose you could say.” He thought of how else he might describe her. “But professional. She let me talk pretty freely.”

“Oh? What did you talk about?”

“...Mostly just, my upbringing, I guess.”

Aichi knew that had to be tiring.

“About my parents, a little, about middle school, quite a bit about Ren, too.”

“Ren, huh?” Aichi smiled in a particular way.

“Yeah.” Kai replied, contemplative.

“It’s not,” He hesitated. “All bad memories, but. You know.”

Aichi knew.

“Hey,” Aichi touched Kai’s leg after a few moments of silence. “How about you lie back down for a bit? I can take care of dinner for once.”

Kai looked at him.

“We can always talk later, when you feel better.”

Kai didn’t feel all that bad. Or did he?

Perhaps he was still a bit wound up, and he’d just woke up.

“Alright.”

Kai didn’t fall back asleep, which was probably for the best.

He listened with half an ear to the news, the volume down low, but not that much registered.

The dishwasher was running some 30 minutes later, dinner done and dishes taken care off. Aichi dried his hands on the kitchen towel as he’d finished up the little leftover cleaning there was. Kai had a knack off leaving the kitchen spotless.

Whiskers had finished eating and was digging her claws into the fabric of Kai’s shirt as her stroke her head. She purred and he laid in spot to watch the TV, but he frankly wasn’t so interested. He remembered briefly, many years ago, Gaillard had asked him how come Japanese television is so largely composed of nothing but cooking shows and variety, and Kai hadn’t been able to answer because he wasn’t that critically inclined when it came to media consumption.

When Aichi suddenly sat down by him again, Whiskers retreated up back on the couch behind Kai’s head.

“By the way,” Aichi had leaned in and put his hand on his chest. “There’s something I wanted to ask you.”

Aichi looked at him, with his eyes so bright, and with his touch Kai felt his heart retract in his chest and his mouth go a little dry, like a teenager. “...What?”

“It’s a bit out of the ordinary, I guess,” Aichi seemed pleased, however, and Kai grew curious. “But I’ve been nominated to do an exhibition game to promote the Vanguard Association.”

“Oh?” It had been some time since Aichi had done something like that. An abhorrent waste of potential, in Kai’s opinion. “That’s great. Good luck.”

Aichi made that sort of face, and Kai knew, he was feeling a little embarrassed, and a little humored at his own expense.

“What?”

“Actually,” He tipped his head. “I’m the only one who’s been nominated.”

“Huh?” 

“Yeah. I guess they really want me to do it. And the nomination’s just been a formality this time around. It’s supposed to be a surprise and even internally, people don’t know yet, just that there’s some nominees.”

“Except there’s just one nominee, and that’s you.”

“Yeah...”

“Well isn’t that great?” Kai himself thought it was. “I’m assuming you don’t know who the opponent is yet?”

“Yeah, I don’t. I probably won’t for a while.” Aichi sounded a bit tense, but Kai sensed some excitement from him.

“Any clues?”

“They want it to be someone “fresh”, so, um,” Aichi didn’t have a few guesses, that was the problem. “I feel like it could be almost anyone, so I really have no idea where to even start. I’m assuming someone from abroad, or, I don’t know, someone a bit younger, I guess?””

Kai smiled a little. “We’re already old, huh?”

Aichi sighed, “Yeah, I guess we are?”

“Which was why I wanted to ask you, you know,” Aichi leaned forward, “If you could help me out? I want to build something a bit different, something new.”

Kai slid down a bit further were he laid. “Of course I’ll help you.”

“Really?”

Kai wasn’t sure why Aichi was even asking. “Why wouldn’t I? It’ll be fun.”

“Yea, but, I thought, maybe, maybe you’d be too preoccupied.” Aichi adverted his eyes. “But then I thought, maybe it could be a good distraction.”

“Yeah,” Kai said quietly. “It could be. I think I might need something like that.”

Aichi smiled. They’d drawn quite close. Aichi leaned in for a simple kiss.

“Do you mind?” Aichi moved to lie down next to him.

Kai didn’t respond, he just held him. Now, he felt, this what perhaps what he’d really needed to recover from today, no long winded naps, no looping lines of thought, no reassuring words from medical professionals, just Aichi’s weight on him, as they spoke of the worldly matters that connected and excited them.

“I already have a few ideas in mind,” Aichi said, and Kai felt his breath on the skin of his neck and shoulder. “But I wanted to run them over with you properly first.”

It felt strange. They’d used to talk about these things all the time. 

No matter what, they’d always shared Vanguard.

Even with his life put on hold, there were things Kai didn’t want to forget.

 

 

 

 

 

 

He’d felt an adrenaline rush of unexpected proportions when the doorbell rang out, he hadn’t know how to expect what it’d sound like, or what would happen from now on, well, not exactly, at least.

Aichi had been so surprised on the other end, Kai thought he might slam the door in his face.

He hadn’t.

Aichi had already put away his uniform. Kai felt a little silly wearing his. The Hitsue public school uniform, the 75% polyester mix that gave the fabric that particular gloss, even on his old and worn bought-back set. The faded colors and sunk in seams somehow only made him stand out less among his classmates. The Miyaji uniform just gave a completely different impression. Although instead, Aichi wore one of his older turlenecks, the soft pink one with the ribbing. Kai dared to think, for once, in Aichi’s presence, that it looked good on him.

They’d spent time together like this before, but at the same time, not quite like this. The house was quiet and empty, except for them, and it would be for a few more hours. Regardless, Kai could count the number of times he’d been to Aichi’s house on one hand.

Aichi invited him up to his room, and they recounted the events of the day.

“I didn’t mean to leave you hanging like that earlier.” Aichi looked, and sounded, quite bashful, and Kai tried to not read too much into it.

“It’s fine.”

“I mean, I didn’t,” Aichi smiled so brightly, no less flustered, all the more earnest. “I didn’t expect you to come all the way here.”

Aichi realized what he’d said, such familiar words, and there was a particular kind of silence between them, and Kai smiled and Aichi slipped out a laugh.

“Do you still have your Gold Paladin deck?” Kai realized, after he’d said it, that it sounded silly. Of course he did.

“Oh, yeah!” Aichi didn’t seem to mind. “It might be a little outdated though. Why, did you want me to use it?”

Just having sat down by the sitting table in his room, without hesitating Aichi stood again to grab the deck from his desk drawer.

“I thought you might want to,” Kai was to reveal his reasoning in a second. “To change things up a little.”

The deck he’d been shuffling, the soothing familiar sounds of the card ends against the wooden table top, was one he had not used in a little while.

The vanguards as they stood, flipped on the table.

“I thought as much,” Aichi laughed. “This takes me back.”

Kai’s Narukami forerunner moved back, turns 1, 2, 3 came and went.

Aichi was relaxed, but attentive, leaning on the table during Kai’s turn. So very different from the first time they’d played with this specific match-up. Such confused and awkward times. It was strange to think of the past, but despite everything Kai had many nuggets of precious memories. Though they’d hurt one another, been separated from one another, failed to understand one another, he treasured his recollections of their times together all the same. Unlike his past self, Kai was ready to shoulder the responsibility for much of what had transpired, and perhaps he’d eventually be able to fully process it, and move on.

He was already getting there.

Three years ago he never even could have imagined spending time with Aichi like this, much less doing it so effortlessly.

They intended to play a full match, a set of three games, but the tally on the win-lose ratio was discontinued somewhere around the 5th game. 

It didn’t matter.

Kai was instead concerned with something else.

They’d already done a few different match ups, but Kai had a third deck in his school bag that he’d yet to make use of.

He was still bad at starting conversations. Usually Aichi would speak, and he would listen. He was comfortable with that arrangement for the most part, but he couldn’t allow himself to be restrained to it. Time had zipped by them.

“I,” He dragged the words out of his mouth. “Have a different deck I’d like to use.”

Aichi, and blessed be him, Kai thought, sensed something was up.

“Oh? What is it?”

Kai let his actions speak as he slipped the cards out of the deck box.

“It’s the deck I was using,” The cards lined up as he slid the deck against the smooth surface of the table. “While you were gone.”

Aichi needed not double take to recognize the Royal Paladin units.

Stuck on a thought, Aichi froze up in contemplation. “If, if you don’t mind, then,”

Kai didn’t know what to say.

It had been his suggestion.

“I mean, I’d love to.” Aichi clarified. His smile was careful, considerate. “If you want to? I’d love to see you play it.”

Kai mirrored Aichi’s smile.

Somehow, he hadn’t expected that.

Afternoon became evening, Aichi’s mother greeted Kai with as much surprise as her mellow personality could muster, and while Aichi was flustered, Kai wholeheartedly enjoyed the pleasantries though he had little to offer in return. Kai had not planned ahead. He had decided he would go to Aichi’s house, to see him, and that had been that. It was less that he was asked to stay for dinner, and more that it was assumed that he would. Kai had a tendency to get stuck doing the things he occupied himself, forgetting the passage of time. At least when it concerned certain things, such as Vanguard, or Aichi. The Vanguard games had mellowed out into conversation, about the game, about the cards, about the times they’ve played, and it had gotten dark out when Shizuka called them down to eat.

Kai commented on the seasoning once, and that was it. Aichi did not exchange a word with Kai during dinner after that.

A smidge, a taste, of a normal family life. Kai realized, just as he instinctively had risen from his seat to help with the dishes, that it was getting late, and that he didn’t want this evening to ever end.

Shizuka insisted he did not have to help, but thanked him regardless. Kai was invited by Emi and Aichi to watch some television, and he realized no one was going to ask him to leave.

Feet folded under him, Aichi sat so close Kai could feel his radiating body warmth. He realized he was tired, tired from hours of sweet, mellow excitement. He wasn’t used to it. No, he really did not want to leave, and no one would ask or demand that of him. However, it was a Thursday evening, and past midnight the trains and buses would stop running.

Aichi offered to go with him, once it was past eleven. Kai collected his items, some of which had been strayed about more than he’d realized, which was, at all.

Kai hadn’t offered much of a response, but they were already in sync, and they got dressed together and went out the door together. Aichi had been in a slight hurry, so his mother wouldn’t keep them, giving her time and opportunity to say something that’d embarrass him.

Once outside, they set a different pace entirely.

They weren’t in that much of a hurry yet.

In the dusk, all alone, all warmed up, Kai felt like he’d run out of words but still with an overwhelming amount of things left to say.

The school year was coming to an end, and Kai had set his sights on places far away.

This fragile moment of comfortable silence, the countdown ticking, the 30 minutes before the last bus, the weeks before his graduation, the limited opportunities they’d have to spend time together. Kai had overcome his irrational fear of becoming irrelevant to Aichi, but he was still restless, for he had acquired greater goals and other worries.

Kai gauged Aichi’s proximity to him, and thought of how close they walked, and he’d turned, to watch him, his silhouette.

His insides turning cold, the thought that floated to Kai’s head did so not unlike the many intrusive thoughts he’d struggled with in the past.

_There’s no way he doesn’t know how I feel about him,_

_Right?_

It was almost silly, how fearful he was suddenly, fearful of Aichi knowing, fearful of him not knowing. Thinking about the things he’d said, the things he’d done. How often he’d given himself away, and how he’d done nothing to properly convey his feelings. Above else, feeling like a fool no matter what, feeling like a fool for allowing himself to feel like such a fool. It was almost comforting. Maybe this was how it was supposed to be like, to be in love, to spend time with the person you liked. All of the feeling like a fool, all of the getting the thumps in your chest, all that without the existential dread, without the overwhelming guilt, without all of those things that made him hate himself.

Kai imagined he’d still feel like he’d want to die in the case that Aichi would reject him. Which was also why it felt good to be certain, relatively, at least, that such a thing probably would not happen- Not that anything like would put an end to his wavering feelings or his spiraling thoughts.

No, what it took was for Aichi to turn to him, to look at him, to smile at him, for that slight tint of red to rise to his cheeks. But only perhaps, because then he could not think of anything at all.

By the time they reached the bus stop by the station, they hadn’t spoken of much other than small talk. It was a strange mellow, and they both had started feeling increasingly flustered as the minutes had passed.

Kai had been clueless, but as the headlights of the bus hit his back and his shadow stretched to engulf Aichi, it hit him, all at once.

Aichi, who fiddled with his hands, adverted his gaze, swallowed, before speaking.

“I’ll see you soon, right?”

“Yeah.”

Kai’s mouth had gone dry, and he couldn’t muster any more of a response.

With half a step forward, Aichi had reached to hold onto the front of Kai’s uniform jacket, carefully tense in his grip, and kissed him. Having gone for the lips, he had faltered just a bit in the last moment, and kissed him on the corner of his mouth, sweetly.

And Kai was frankly, amazed. Amazed by the inner imaginations of others, amazed by Aichi who had the courage and guts to kiss him, amazed by the idea that he had probably planned that out, braced himself, all evening. He was amazed that while he himself had been absorbed in his own world, with his own troubles, struggling to even form a plan of any kind in terms of letting Aichi know how he felt, and during all that, Aichi had been thinking of kissing him.

That was what Kai would think about, his mind spiraling and collapsing on itself, while in bed later that night after getting home, restless and sleepless, still and staring at the ceiling.

He thought of no such thing at that moment no, not with the bus driver waiting and with Aichi’s hand still holding onto his collar. No, then he had not thought a single thing, felt many things, yes, but his mind had been empty.

He knew he had to say something. Any little thing.

“Yeah, I’ll... see you, soon.”

“Yeah.”

Restating what had already been said would have to do.

They had kissed, but nothing had changed, except they had kissed, but they would still see each other again soon.

kai had only just sat down in his seat and the bus had only just started moving when Kai heard the line notification.

Aichi had been typing with his hands shaking ever so slightly, wobbling a little on his way home.

> _I had a really good time. I hope it didn’t get too late!_

A plain and polite message. Devoid of the usual stickers or emojis that Aichi was normally quite fond of.

Kai knew he had to respond right away.

He couldn’t overthink it.

__

__

> _Me too. And don’t worry_

Perhaps that had been too short, too plain, too devoid of anything. He felt like he was short-circuiting, but hope was in his heart as he saw Aichi typing.

Jaw shut tight, Aichi’s brain had already roamed several different possible conversations topics to distract from and neutralize the tension brought by his actions.

__

__

> _It got really late but, I’m glad we got to play so much... It’s been a while. It was really fun to see your Royal Paladin deck! I really didn’t expect to get to see it._

Kai felt a sense of relief. This made things a little easier. It didn’t feel fully fair. He should say something. But there was no way he could.

Or could he?

__

__

> _Yeah... It was fun. I wanted to use it against you at least once._

Kai hit send. The seconds had ticked by, and he still didn’t know exactly what to say. His messages were short despite the time it took to compose them.

Aichi was typing again immediately. Then he stopped. And then he started again. Kai leaned against the window. He felt strange, at peace, and yet as if he might cry.

Meanwhile, Aichi’s walk home was perhaps the slowest in his lifetime. Normally texting and walking wasn’t a problem.

__

__

> _I wanted to ask you more about the deck, but I guess I got too caught up in everything... I hope you don’t mind using it again sometime?_

The tension was wearing off.

__

__

> _I was planning to. We could get together again sometime_

Kai wasn’t brave enough to write “I want to spend time with you like this again”. He still had to rely on Aichi to try and understand, and he felt bad about that.

If he could have seen Aichi, receiving the message, stopping dead in his tracks, smiling so wide, almost misty-eyed, clutching his phone to his chest, he might have felt differently.

Kai’s phone buzzed a few seconds later.

__

__

> _Yeah! I’d love to! Maybe we be at your place next time? If you don’t mind? My mom can be a bit too much sometimes, haha..._

It was dark outside, split-second glimpses into other peoples’ lives were offered through windows pouring with light.

Reality seemed to have slipped away from him, hanging on slim threads, and Kai thought of the dark and cold apartment that awaited him.

Maybe it wouldn’t always have to be like that.

It flashed by in his mind.

He needed to think of just the right dish to make.

His fingers hovered over the keypad. He couldn’t think of anything other than “Yes,” or perhaps, “Yes, I’d like that,” “Yes, of course,” or-

He needed to respond.

__

__

> _I don’t dislike being at your house. But yes, we could, if you want._

It was hard to articulate his thoughts beyond that. It was hard to think, he felt like he was only just grasping at the situation.

Kai thought about Aichi, admiring him, his bravery, his clarity.

__

__

> _Great! I was thinking, maybe I should build a RP Legion deck, too. Next time, maybe we could have a look at it together!_

When Aichi pressed send, he still felt his heart beat heavily. He felt silly, he felt childlike, embarrassed, to have kissed the boy he liked, to have just barely been so bold, and yet, to talk around it like this. Maybe Kai thought he was brave, but Aichi wouldn’t have agreed.

He would get older, he would grow up, and he would look back on it fondly, realizing he’d still been a child.

As he walked his way home, eyes glued to the screen, their conversation continued, branched, stretching and intruding on bedtime hours.

Kai had a tendency of keeping his replies simple, Aichi maybe embroidered them a bit too much, and it never ceased to be a little awkward. But they cut put that aside, they could push through it, and it was never too hard to bear. At least not once they’d started exchanging their thoughts of strategies, skill combinations, or ideas for different builds.

No matter what, they’d always shared Vanguard.

 

 

 

 

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **This chapter contains repeated references to sex.**
> 
>  
> 
> I really did not want to bump up the rating since I don't think it's representative of the story as a whole, but I realize the importance of content warnings, so please consider this to be that. **If references to, or non-descriptive depictions of sex make you uncomfortable, then this story might not appropriate for you.**

 

 

 

 

 

 

He woke up dreary, but clear of mind. The alarm had gone off. Kai moved, reaching to turn it off, and laid himself back into bed.

There was no way sleep would return to his mind. He knew what awaited.

He felt Aichi move next to him, turning over. As actual proof he was awake as well, he moved closer, and Kai felt his hands search, reach and trace his back.

Aichi’s touch was firm, with a clear indication of agenda. Kai felt his breath on his neck, then his head pressing against his back as Aichi pulled him into an embrace under the covers. It only took a second, or two, before Kai felt Aichi’s touch under his shirt.

Kai rose from the bed, staggeringly, slipping out of Aichi’s arms.

He closed the door behind him quietly as he left, but Aichi could still hear his steps down the stairs.

Aichi reached for his pillow, and as he burrowed his face in it, he curled up in Kai’s spot and drew a heavy sigh.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The coffee was good.

It sat on the side table, full with the exception of a sip or two.

The verdict was that it made the situation feel a bit more homey.

Kai didn’t think there’d ever be anything that’d make him fully relax at a doctor’s office, but it did help a little. It was at least, a small distraction.

As she had disclosed, Habara had prepared a few questions since last time.

“You reported struggles with anxiety, depression and very low self-esteem. How are you doing today? Do any of these things impact you as an adult?”

So this was it.

Kai, on the contrary, hadn’t really prepared himself all that much for today. He’d mostly just been dreadful. Speaking of dread, he realized that may be the key to his answer.

“Normally, in day to day life, I would say, no. Maybe there’s a tendency to those type of thoughts. But there’s not much of, well, an impact.”

“You said normally, so, what would you consider an exception?”

“Well, more than anything, this entire ordeal. Speaking of the past is never easy either.”

Habara scribbled.

“When you say, this entire ordeal, I’m assuming you mean the adoption?”

“Yes. I, well,” He wasn’t sure how to elaborate. “It’s taken quite the toll on me.”

He was allowed some time to think.

“I really thought I was through. For the most part. That I’d learned how to deal with it. But maybe that’s not true. I don’t know.”

It poured out of him almost against his will. He couldn’t quite explain it.

“I doubt myself in ways I haven’t in years. I feel distant, preoccupied.”

“I understand you’ve struggled, and in the past been forced to shoulder things that no child ever should. But your reaction to the adoption process isn’t unusual or unique to people with your kind of background.”

Kai heard the words, but they refused to make any sense.

Habara sensed as much.

“What I mean is that,” She set her notepad aside. “Whether it be adoption or not, conceiving a child, becoming a parent, is a life changing experience for everyone. How one reacts depends on the individual. It’s naturally very stressful.”

Kai considered it.

He was not ready to accept it just yet, but the implication that his reaction to the situation was legitimate, that it was maybe even normal, felt as if though it could be true.

“I hadn’t really thought about it in that way.”

“Most people cannot predict how they themselves will act in these sort of situations. Society generally offers little insight into even more common types of struggles that come with mental health issues. To consider one’s own troubles to be excessive, or as a sign of personal weakness, isn’t unusual. For people with backgrounds similar to yourself, that frequency is generally higher.”

Kai allowed himself to ponder.

“...So you would say, that makes for a greater... vulnerability? In general.”

A broad question.

“It could be. In most cases it is. But it also depends a lot on how well a patient responds to treatment and support, and how well they can recognize negative patterns, and make use of tools provided. In your case, you have no experience with professional help, so first, you’d need to gain that experience.”

Putting it like that, it seemed so obvious.

“Of course.”

Kai appreciated her broad response to his broad question. She had sensed that he was worried about the future as much as he was the present.

Habara retrieved her notes.

“To compare, what would you say are any problems that might arise under normal circumstances?”

That wasn’t an easy question.

“Well, I,” Kai struggled to come up with an example.

“For example, with your job. Would you say you ever find your old issues acting up?”

Kai gave it some serious, actual consideration.

“Some people might find me a bit distant, I suppose. A bit cold.” Kai wasn’t so sure how much power he had over that. “But I don’t know. Sometimes I connect to people. Other times I don’t.”

Luckily with his job he could choose who he worked with, and he rarely had to socialize all that much. Besides, he people he did meet, he was guaranteed to have at least one thing in common with.

“You don’t ever feel your old anxieties acting up? You must be surrounded by quite a bit of pressure.”

The memories of past and present merged. For a moment, it was almost dreamlike.

“I’m so used to it all now. I end up thinking more of the games, more of the things to be done, and less of myself.”

In that sense, he had become free.

“I may travel a lot. I like traveling. But sometimes it’s hard to be away from home.”

There were always things that tied him down.

“Is there any specific reason for that?”

There was.

“...It’s not always easy to be away from my husband. We keep in touch. But it can be hard.”

He realized they’d only barely talked about Aichi.

“I see,” Habara scribbled. “In what way is it difficult? If you don’t mind elaborating.”

Kai wasn’t sure what part to elaborate on.

“I don’t know if... Well. We’ve been very close for a long time. He’s much the reason I could recover, at all, as I have, and for the most part being apart isn’t really an issue. But, if something were to happen, then, I know, it would be easier. If he was there.”

“So, you wouldn’t say you have separation anxiety, do you?”

“Well. No. I don’t... I don’t think so.”

Kai didn’t dislike being alone. It could be comforting. However, Aichi was the only person he wanted to be around even when he was tired, when he was drained, when he otherwise didn’t want to be around others.

“In terms of your relationship with your husband, do you ever have any problems that you can trace to your past struggles?”

Kai blanked for a second.

“You mean, currently?”

“Yes.”

“I... I don’t think so.”

He couldn’t think of anything, but somehow he felt that couldn’t be right.

“Do you ever argue? Or have any disagreements?”

“We do sometimes.”

Habara thought Kai’s answers had become unusually short.

“Do have any examples?”

Kai appeared to be thinking quite a bit, which Habara noted could be either a good or a bad thing.

“Sometimes, he gets angry because I forget to tell him things. Because he feels maybe I didn’t communicate as well as I could have. Most of the time it’s because I forget, or because I got distracted.”

“Like what sort of thing, for example?”

Kai concentrated, trying to think of an example.

“I might, do things. Without telling him first. Mostly things at home. One thing that has happened more than once is, that, it’s his turn to do the laundry that week. But then it’s Friday and he didn’t do it. So I do the laundry instead, because I think, the week is over, and it has to be done. But when he gets home, he gets irritated with me, because it was his turn, and he said he would do it, but then. I’ll say he didn’t do it, so I did it, and then he’ll say that he was planning to do it, and that I should have just asked him first, and. I’ll say I assumed he had forgotten, and he’ll admit that maybe he did forget, but in that case I should have just reminded him instead of doing it myself, and. It’s, well. That kind of argument.”

Habara was trying not to smile, especially in the face of Kai, who was genuinely contemplative.

“Do you... Argue about anything else?”

Kai was thinking again, so Habara interjected, “You don’t have to think so hard about it.”

“Sometimes, I... I can get upset with him, because he can be indecisive. And he doesn’t take enough credit for the things that he does. And he used to be really bad at telling people no, even when he really should have.”

“It upsets you?”

“Yes. Because he has good judgement, so he should have more faith in himself. He works hard, and he’s very good at the things he does. And because he lets people take advantage of his kindness.”

“You said it made you upset. Does that mean you argue about these sort of things?”

“I wouldn’t... Well. Things might get a little heated. We both might end up becoming a bit upset.”

Kai revisited those memories, to try and find words to describe them.

“We might argue, yes. But it’s more, that we talk. We try to understand each other.”

Habara was writing.

“I see. Has it always been like that? Have you always been good at communicating with one another?”

The warmth of a pleasant memory froze over.

Kai felt the comfort he had established slip away. Rather than the emptiness of his childhood memories, or darkness of grief, he felt a great sadness.

“No. It hasn’t.”

Habara paused, to raise her head, and Kai didn’t look at her.

“Do you mind telling me a little about that?”

He had been getting better at opening up. Kai still had to brace himself. He wasn’t sure where to begin.

“When we were young, things were quite different. We’ve know each other for a very long time, so.”

“Yes, I remember. You moved, back, and you reunited with him.”

Kai was a bit surprised she remembered. All those notes were not for nothing, he guessed.

“It was back in high school. It’d been about a year since I moved.”

Habara stopped writing.

“In high school?”

“...Yes.”

Kai was a little confused.

“Forgive me. I... I must’ve misunderstood you before.” Habara flipped in her file. “Your family moved with you?”

“Oh. No. They didn’t.”

Kai was still confused.

“You lived on your own? At 15?”

“....”

He hadn’t really questioned it back then.

“Did you go back on the weekends?”

“I... I went back for new years’. Once.”

Habara was not writing. She fought a sigh. “I understand.” 

“I’m sorry,” She apologized. “I ...I just want you to know, that, all things considered, I’d imagine it doubtful that your relatives would’ve been considered fit guardians if this had been known. I mean, I’m not a social worker, but,”

“I’m sorry,” She apologized again, “I realize it must be jarring to you, as adult, to learn that the system failed you, and to find out in this manner.”

Kai's confusion had only just faded. “I... I didn’t mean to withhold anything, I,”

“No, no,” She shook her head. “Please. I was the one who made assumptions. Please continue.”

“So. I was, back, for high school, since about a year back. As I saw it, I had gotten better, but I was still very much my old self.”

“How were you fairing back then?”

“...Not well.” It was strange how the times twisted everything, and how you can think you know yourself, when you in reality know so little. “Things were... adding up for a while. But then it all fell apart. Worse than before.”

It was easy for him to recognize now. The many years of his pent up troubles, his many layers of denial and self-deprivation, and how he’d collapsed under all of it, just as he’d finally started to realize his problems.

“We’d known each other for about a year back then. We weren’t close, or anything, yet, but...”

Was there any point, in trying to explain, the connection he had felt back then? A connection that, now that he was older, he’d realized was probably nothing more than a childhood crush, infatuation blown out of proportion.

No, probably not.

“We were getting there. I guess.”

“I was doing a little bit better, in the sense that I wasn’t isolating myself quite as much. That was thanks to him, but it brought it’s own set of new problems.”

“Yes. That’s not an uncommon occurrence. Recovery usually doesn’t happen all at once.”

At the time, every single situation had been new to him. He hadn’t had any way of knowing. 

“I was still very preoccupied with, doing well, proving myself. I had become a little bit more outgoing, but those two things meshed badly.”

Back then he hadn’t thought of it like that. He’d been quite far away from that level of self-exploration.

“Aichi and I, we were in closer proximity to each other again, and I became very sensitive to, any matter of thing. He was doing very well at the time. Making a lot of new friends, evolving as a Vanguard player, and, I was terrified of being left behind after I’d finally made some sort of, connection with him.”

“So, you relapsed?”

“I think it would be wrong to say I relapsed. It was. A new kind of situation.”

Habara let Kai speak, and he was thankful.

“I hurt a lot of people, including everyone who’d ever meant anything to me. And at that point, I didn’t know what to do.”

“Before then, I’d decided that it was best for me to be alone. Because I couldn’t seem to make things work with others. But I’d, gone against that. And, things, somehow,”

He could still easily reconstruct his twisted lines of logic from his youth.

They were like worn out, well-walked roads. On bad days he could still sometimes find himself there, if he didn’t pay attention to where we was headed, of if he lost trace of where he wanted to go.

“Somehow turned out worse than I’d imagined.”

He felt like that still didn’t quite cut it. It was hard to put into words.

In the years that had passed, he'd had more than enough time to reflect. He'd had time and opportunities to face his old demons. He'd also heard the stories of others to contrast his own. In their different forms, Link Joker had sought vessels with emptiness and resentment to match their own. Kai however, had not been sought. He had been the one appealed to void.

The numbness to his own emotions had brought clarity. To this day, the memory of that sensation was hard to bear.

“And. It all started just because, I couldn't properly. Talk to him.”

“Do you mind telling me what happened in more detail?”

Kai considered it, to an extent. There was only so much he could say.

“I don’t like talking about it. But, I... To tell part of the story. I, ended up going down the same road that my other friend had. I made the conscious decision to alienate myself from my friends, and to hurt others. All simply because I couldn’t stand the thought of being seen as weak.”

Kai was never one for witty ironies, never had been and never would. Instead he was merely confused, saddened, by the cruel twists of fate that his life had thrown at him. He could not bring himself to be anything but harrowed at the thought that his own fear of losing Aichi had threatened to tear the two of them apart forever.

“What were you thinking at the time? How were you doing?”

“I was thinking that I couldn’t go back.”

Kai had lost the tension, the buzz in his mind. Instead, there was a deafening silence.

“I felt that I didn’t want to be around anymore. As in,”

He’d been holding his breath. He knew he was under no real obligation to tell Habara each and every single detail, but the truth weighted him down.

“I wasn’t sure if I, wanted to be, alive anymore.”

He’d grown out of being ashamed, and he was past the grievances, but that still didn’t make it easy. He was afraid that this would make the adoption impossible. It was that fear that made it harder than anything. His own possible ineptitude for parenthood would however surely make itself known regardless, sooner or later. The difference being the circumstances that would occur if it happened later.

He was fearful of the answer, but Kai himself wanted to know. He was dying to know. Would he be fit to care for a child?

Aichi had told him so, and he himself hoped so, and how badly he wanted to believe that, it physically hurt.

However, regardless of what the answer would be, Kai himself did not know if he could possibly accept it.

Habara had been writing, and Kai had no way to guess what her next question would be.

“I understand,” She said finally, and the quality of her voice had shifted, it was almost soft. “What were you thinking, at the time?”

“I thought that I didn’t deserve to be around.” Kai answered in prompt manner, that he himself felt to be eerie. “And that it was my responsibility to make sure I didn’t hurt anyone ever again. Because at the time, I. I felt that it would be inevitable.”

“Had you ever struggled with suicidal thoughts in the past?”

To hear her say it like that, felt different.

“Not quite. Not like that. I guess it was mostly circumstantial.”

“Circumstantial?”

“When the situation got better... I got better. However, I. I got quite close. To going through with it.”

“Do you have any idea what helped change the situation?”

Kai knew the answer, but he still needed a moment to ponder.

“It was really just. All thanks to my husband. He talked me out of it. He didn’t even, I,”

Having previously been frozen in place, Kai now nervously adjusted in his chair. Maybe he appeared anxious. In reality he was a little embarrassed. For the first time today, since walking through that door, he felt like he might smile.

“I was astonished. I’d already made my mind up. But he made me dare to believe that maybe, someday, things could be better.”

Kai still held the words from that day close to his heart. The things he’d pictured that day had since long become a reality. Aichi had held each and every single one of his promises.

“It’s a relief to hear you managed to get better, even without professional help.”

Kai couldn’t help but think there was a reason for that.

“Most, if not all, my problems, my behavior, was because I couldn’t bear with my, feelings, for him. Because I felt so inadequate. I’d promised myself that I would keep to myself. But when it came to him, it was... difficult. I reached out to him, but we only really shared Vanguard. I didn’t have the capacity to actually make friends. But the idea of losing that. Just that, one, connection. It was strange, but it was unbearable.”

If the two of them had never met, Kai's life no doubt would have played out differently. Kai himself had never thought of such alternative scenarios in detail. Their relationship had pressed him to his downfall, but also brought with his recovery. When he was younger, he had assumed that if not for Aichi, he would have lived in his isolated bubble for the rest of his life in comparative comfort. Now he knew that life was long, and that with the years, he would have been ground down into nothing by his burdens and by his loneliness. So many of the things his connection with Aichi had brought him in the past were painful, but that was still nothing compared to the alternative. 

“Have you ever experienced suicidal thoughts since?”

“I haven’t.”

Kai felt relieved to able to reply with an earnest no. He wondered if he should elaborate, but Habara had her gaze lowered as she wrote. Kai wondered if it would be acceptable to ask to see what she’d written, although as it crossed his mind he realized he didn’t actually want to know.

“You said,” Habara flipped back a few pages. “That the recovery was all thanks to your husband, and that, you didn’t know what you’d do if you lost your connection with him. That was in the past, before you started dating. You’ve said that currently, you have good communication, and you don’t seem to have any reoccurring conflicts that are outside of the ordinary. The things you’ve disclosed to me imply that you may rely on your husband more than most people might rely emotionally on their spouses, but you’ve also told me you don’t experience separation anxiety. What I’d like to know is,”

Habara opened a new page in her notebook. “Over the course of the years, have you had any incidents in regards to your interpersonal relationships?”

“I...” Kai felt like he was drawing a blank. “I’m sorry. I’m not sure I understand the question.”

“How would you say your mental health has impacted your relationship with others in your adult life?”

“Well... I. Of course there’s been, an effect. I’m not a very social person. And I don’t think that’ll ever change.”

“Do you want that to change?”

Kai had never thought about it like that.

“When I was young I never considered it an option. Now that I’m older... things have improved, and although I am still quite introverted... I am content.”

Habara seemed to accept that answer. Kai made an effort to get back on track.

“As, as for my relationships with others, it has mostly been well. My close friends and I, we understand each other. We share a lot of experiences. Maybe for periods of time, we’ve lost touch. But we always reconnected.”

Whenever he went abroad, or when he had been busy in general, it hadn’t been that easy to keep in touch with everyone. He’d grown accustomed to making that effort, to making that first call or send that first text. It helps to know that you’re wanted. Kai knew, he’d learned, over and over.

“How about your relationship with your husband?"

“Well, I,”

Earnest as he could be, Kai couldn't think of anything at the top of his head.

That couldn’t be right.

He twisted and turned his thoughts. He turned back time.

Habara picked up on his doubts. “The question regards any aspect of your relationship.”

Kai’s ponders were almost curious, but retracing his steps didn’t take him far. It had only been a few hours ago, earlier that morning.

It was merely a remnant, a trace, but it had been there, a lead, a thread that connected to events seven, eight, nine years back in time.

Kai looked up amidst realization, and Habara looked back at him. She was thinking, as was he, and her presence in his life had never quite felt so uncomfortable, so intrusive. He looked away just as he remembered the sensation of Aichi’s hand under his shirt, fingers against his skin. Kai assessed the situation and felt raw, legitimate fear.

Throughout all of this, he’d felt unprepared, but this was all on a different level. It was hard to speak when you could barely think.

He’d promised himself he’d press on, and despite the disdain for himself, for the situation, he sounded the whip.

He had to speak.

“There was, one thing. We used to have, this, problem.”

Saying _“we”_ , he immediately felt a need to correct himself.

Aich had never contributed to anything except solutions.

“Or, I did. I had a problem.”

The winters in Tokyo were mild. If you come from up north, the complaints from the locals about the cold will sound like childish whining. Shopping districts with street upon street with open storefronts were the air conditioners billow, littered with vending machines selling warm beverages. In the mornings, wait for the train outdoors, and you might feel a taste of spring in the air. Visit Tokyo Bay in February, and turn your face towards the ocean; the sun will give a promise of summer.

However the island climate is clammy. The air conditioner runs the air dry, but its not always convenient for it to run around the clock. Waking up in the cold mornings, going to bed in the dark evening, can be accompanied by natural sources of warmth. The presence of another person. Sharing a living space, sharing a home, a couple sharing a bed as they share everything else.

Some things went without saying.

Vibrant, unpleasant, distressing, memory flashes of intimate moments. Kai was conquered by them. To condense them, to deliver them, to digest them in any dignified, coherent manner, he feared was utterly impossible.

The years pass, and some memories don’t fade. May those memories not be as emotionally loaded, may they not feel quite as humiliating, or as awkward, and may there be a certain level of self-awareness that comes with age. The fragile ego of youth was indeed mostly just a memory. Regardless it still wasn’t fun, or easy, to revisit, much less talk about those personal, uncomfortable and intimate things.

Dispersing a fragment of tension, Kai breathed a sigh. He was exhausted, and embraced that, because for now, that was easier, than losing himself in his recollections, or allowing himself to feel embarrassed.

“Back when we’d been together for a while, things were going well, and I was very happy.”

He would still sometimes wake up in the morning, and feel that, that particular kind of happiness. It came with a sense of wonder, a sense of relief, and childlike excitement. Kai had heard that supposedly, when you’ve been with the same person long enough, romance dies, and although you may love one another, you may no longer feel that you are in love.

Kai could not relate to that, and he was certain he never would.

“But then, we,” He tried to focus on the words. He wanted to paraphrase his story, not tell it. “We got to that point where, we’d been together long enough for it to be expected, that,” He tried, and he tried so hard, not to lose his drive. “That we be, more intimate with each other.”

“And that. Was difficult. For me.”

Kai wondered briefly, what it was like, to listen to other people’s stories, to hear them lay out their worries and their secrets. Of course, it mostly just in the sense that he wanted to know, how badly he was doing, how ashamed he should be. The correct answer was of course, that there was no right or wrong and that he shouldn’t ever be ashamed for sharing his story with a professional. Kai himself could rationalize that much. Emotionally, it was a different story.

“I see. In what way was it difficult?”

Kai hadn’t really braced for the question. From here onward he would have to take everything as it came, a moment at a time. He felt like he’d clam up entirely if he started thinking ahead.

He must have displayed some sort of tortured expression, he thought, because she added; “I know this is hard for a lot of people to talk about, and while I need certain amount of information for the evaluation, you’re not obliged to tell me anything you’re not comfortable with.”

Kai almost wished she hadn’t said that. He’d assumed, hoped, that that much was obvious, and now he instead felt all the more exposed.

Regardless, it have him a bit of an opening.

“Basically, I wasn’t, ready. I still struggled with my feelings of, inadequacy. Although it was still hard for me to believe, I had accepted that he wanted to be with me.”

It had been a strange time. A mix of old and new, of security and fear. At first, there had only really been improvements all around.

The silence dragged on for a few extra seconds, as was needed.

“I’d accepted, that, but, it was still hard for me to accept, exactly how he felt about me. He made it clear to me, what he wanted. But I wasn’t, really ready to give him that. Although, I loved him.”

“So you did talk about it?”

“I... yes.” Kai had memories so clear, it was eerie. “It was crude, but, we did.”

“He said, he’d wait for me.” Kai filled in. He didn’t want to do Aichi any disservice. “And, and he did. He never pressured me, or, anything like that.”

“I understand. How did things eventually resolve?”

“Well,”

There hadn’t been a clean cut resolution. Relationships, regardless of what aspect of them, hardly ever work like that.

“I think I, hit my breaking point.” That was what it had felt like. “I, eventually,” His voice had gone quiet. “Caved in all under myself.”

He felt increasingly saddened, burdened, almost as if he might cry. 

“It wasn’t really. The end to anything.”

He’d said what he had, in ways he never had before. When the topic had been brought up, he knew it would be hard to talk about, but he hadn’t realized that the emotional toll would be the highest.

“So, things continued to be difficult?”

Habara had lowered her voice to match his. Kai hardly even noticed. He nodded.

“May I ask, what led to that?”

He had lost his posture in his seat, he sighed once more, quietly.

Having heard the question, Kai repeated it in his mind. He tried to strip his recollections bare of all the baggage, get to core of the problem, step outside himself.

“I couldn’t really... perform. I,” Having forced the words out of himself, Kai felt as if he’d cast a curse.

“I was very, attracted to him. That was part of the problem. And when it came down to it. I couldn’t please him, I couldn’t,” It was hard to breathe once more. “Last, very long.”

“It certainly didn’t help,” It felt better to keep talking, to move on. “The fact that I already felt, as if I, wasn’t good enough for him.”

Habara let him breathe for a moment, but Kai felt he’d rather move on. He was exhausted, strained, sad and embarrassed in a way he’d never quite experienced.

“How were you feeling at the time?”

She’d asked that before. Kai felt as if he’d exhausted his responses.

“...I felt as if, I’d always known, it was all too good to be true.”

If he had to summarize it, then that’d be it.

“Aichi, he, he always, reassured me. That helped. And we were still close. But, it hurt. It hurt the both of us.”

“Did you get help, or did you ever reach a resolution?”

“It dragged on.” He admitted.

Putting it into words, he no longer quite blamed himself. But he still felt frustrated, upset, to the extent of which life could be so ruthlessly unfair.

His own woes, he could deal with. However, to think something he shared with Aichi, something that should have been precious and warm and potentially healing, had to be tarnished and damaged as a result of the things he’d been through, on top of everything, felt so cruel. It was truly nothing but unfair.

Hand to his face, energy diminished, he’d lost his posture.

Fragments, remnants, spilling over from the past into the present.

Kai knew it was all because of the stress, the peculiar circumstances, but it still hurt.

He thought he’d gotten better, and he had, but he supposed this was the final proof, that his past would always and forever be a part of him.

“It got better with time. But it took, well, time.”

“How are things now?”

The questions, as they piled up, seemed to weight less and less. The truth as he spoke it was a much heavier burden.

Kai’s eyes were downcast, and his face suddenly aged beyond his years. Colored by the recollection of the past, and their remnant effects on the present, he tried to reconnect to a more objective reality. Fresh, and undiminished, he had such memories too. The image of Aichi in his mind was always so crisp and clear, his treading gentleness, his feverish passion, his earnest love.

Kai suspected he would spend the rest of his days trying to match him.

Progress, however, had been made.

He picked himself up.

“Things are generally good. It can’t really be compared to how things used to be. Maybe we lack some,” He sought for a word. “Continuity, at times, since I may be away,”

It felt like an excuse.

In truth, they weren’t always having sex regularly. It came and went. As of late, that usual time lapse had prolonged. Though admittedly, he hadn’t managed to stop and reflect upon it until now, he was well aware of his role in it all.

“But we do talk about it. Honestly, I,” He breathed a light, shallow breath, “I think, in the end, it was something that, inadvertently,”

He lifted his gaze.

“Made us breach many gaps between us.”

Time was slipping away.

Kai felt light headed.

“Communication is more important than anything else in a relationship.”

Kai knew that, but in the end, he was an emotionally wired person, who held love and his passions above all else.

Which was also, why he had almost ruined himself.

He had been forced to painstakingly collect his words over the years.

Aichi may have saved his life, but to push on, to keep on living, you had to walk on your own two legs.

They’d run the threads out. Habara recognized Kai's exhaustion and graced him with a mellow last few minutes and a closing that felt anything but premature.

Thanks yous and Good-byes, no rescheduling needed until next session.

The last remaining mouthful of coffee had since long gone cold.

When Kai exited the building, he felt as if he’d descended back on planet earth, but rather than in a haze, he felt himself amidst a surge of impatience.

With only a heavy huff of a sigh, he’d settled in the car, before he started the engine, and drove off.

 

 

 

 

 

 

University of Tokyo, science department.

Aichi had a designated parking spot, although he himself had no registered vehicle.

As for why he didn’t have a license, there were a few reasons, but at one point, a few years ago, they’d agreed to test the waters. Only two sessions in, post the great intersection panic of 202X, they’d concluded that the test driving sessions had run their course.

Aichi had laid on the couch that day, befuddled with post-panic remorse, and Kai had traded in his promises of driving lessons for promises of another kind.

He’d poured Aichi a cup of tea, and said, as he himself remembered it, that he would drive Aichi around for the rest of their lives, if so be it.

The promise stood.

Aichi threw his bag into the backseat before settling in the passenger’s seat in the front. 

“Thanks for picking me up,” He said brightly, and Kai wasn’t sure how to greet him in return.

It was their usual drive back home, at least for a while. Aichi spoke about his day, about the seminar, and how he was planning to handle some future meetings. Kai always longed to simply and quietly savor Aichi speaking of his day, his life, his thoughts and his simple worries.

A moment silence invited to reflection. Although they’d been able to ignore it for a spell, current events were still burdening them.

“Today, I,” Aichi opened with a changed tone of voice, signaling a change of subject. “Spoke to Emi about the recommendation letter.”

It’s not that Kai was surprised, but nonetheless he felt a little alarmed.

“Of course, she said she’d happily do it,”

They had talked already quite a bit about this. They’d considered a number of people, but some choices were more obvious than others. Aichi had mentioned Emi early, and Kai had too thought it a good idea. It was either her, or Shizuka, and Aichi seemed to have made his mind up with ease. Kai had no reason to question him.

“But she sounded a bit worried. She wanted me to send her some information, and talk it through with me some first.”

“She probably just wants to be certain to make no mistakes.”

“Yeah...” Aichi seemed to agree.

A red light.

The silence had just about clicked into place when Aicbi spoke again.

“I’m... I’m going to ask Misaki next.”

Kai had glanced away from the road. “Really?”

“Yeah. What do you think?”

Kai realized he probably hadn’t made himself clear enough previously. He’d let his inner monologues run rampant, but perhaps he hadn’t commented as much on their possible choices as he should have.

“... I think asking Tokura is a great idea. She’s clever, good with words. Harsh, but fair. She’ll naturally understand the situation. You should absolutely ask her.”

Kai couldn’t claim he had ever been overtly close with her. He regretted that. Regardless, he resonated with her, and trusted her in a way that was quite rare.

Aichi smiled gently, and Kai saw it in the reflection of the windshield.

“Yeah, I think so too.”

Kai, in turn, had his own requests to make.

“I haven’t asked him yet but, I’m planning to talk to Miwa soon.”

Kai had no family he could ask, for several reasons. Hopefully the adoption agency would understand, for in Kai’s own world, Miwa might as well be family. 

He felt bad, honestly. Miwa had always helped him without ever asking for anything in return. When they were young, Kai had barely ever recognized or honored his cause. Although he’d grown out of that, specifically going out of his way to ask a favor of this caliber left him feeling more than humble. He knew without doubt that Miwa would help him. He probably wouldn’t even make a big deal out of it, because that was the kind of person he was. 

Which was all the more reason why, when they’d discussed who to request a word from, he had unquestionably been their first choice.

Still, that was just three people.

“Do you... have anyone else in mind?”

Kai was quiet, absolutely with people in mind.

Aichi sounded vaguely vexed. “... Maybe we really should ask Gaillard. What do you think?”

They’d decided they would try and ask other people first. He had already done so much for them in all this. Kai had other reasons why he hesitated, reasons he knew he should have laid to rest a long time ago, but had resurfaced like much else.

 _I’d do it myself,_ Gaillard had told Kai. _I’d do it myself, if I could. If it would make any difference._

Kai sighed a barely audible sigh. He knew, without a doubt, that Gaillard was over it, and that he had been for many years. Though, he couldn’t help but wonder, how it must feel. They’d been friends for so long now, teammates, allies, rivals; but they hadn’t always been. Once more, Kai looked at Aichi’s reflection in the windshield, and then he looked at himself, right next to him. Kai hadn’t taken Aichi for granted for single moment, ever, and if he ever found himself doing that, he’d never forgive himself. Before he’d ever been capable of imagining it, he’d yearned for this life with him.

Kai knew that once, a long time ago, Gaillard had felt the same way.

It was a matter of the past. If Gaillard had any idea what Kai was thinking, if he had any idea that Kai might exclude him, at this point, in this matter, in regard for his feelings, he would be insulted. Kai knew as much, and he knew Gaillard could never be that petty, especially not in regard of something like this. That was not in him.

It was ridiculous to think about, but Kai still couldn’t help but wonder. Wonder about how Gaillard felt, what he thought, and how different things could have been.

If things had been different, Gaillard could have been the one to do this. It lasted for no more than a split second, the image of Gaillard, in his shoes, together with Aichi, meeting the people of the agency, signing papers, cleaning out the to-be second bedroom.

It only lasted for more than a split second, but Kai's contempt before his own twisted imagination only added to the feeling of wanting to sink into the ground and disperse into fine dust.

After all, Aichi had never loved anyone but him.

Those were his own words.

“I think... I think he’d like us to ask him.”

If Kai truly was to act according to Gaillard's feelings, there was only one thing to do.

They were all friends. Anything else might as well be ancient history.

“Yeah...” Aichi smiled. “You’re right.”

Aichi seemed to have become ever so slightly more upbeat. “Okay, who else?”

Kai smiled a little. “We’re supposed to ask coworkers. And I guess Gaillard would cover it for me. How about you?”

“Good question,” Aichi had thought about that, too.

He had a bit of an unconventional answer.

“What about asking Ibuki?”

“... Do you really think that’d count?”

“Don’t you think it might? I do end up seeing him. He knows my work.”

Kai hadn’t given Ibuki that much consideration, but for unrelated reasons.

“And, he knows you too. I think it would be better than asking someone from my job who only knows me, and who knows me only from work.”

That was very true, Kai thought.

“I don’t...” Kai hesitated. “I’m not sure he has the time.”

Of course, Kai hadn’t asked. So there was no way he’d know for sure. If he were to ask however, there was no way Ibuki would say no. He would not be capable of it. Which was why Kai had considered him only in passing.

“I... I know he’s usually very busy, but... I mean, shouldn’t you at least ask?”

As Kai saw it, Ibuki had no debts to repay him or Aichi. Ibuki however, might see things differently. He retraced his thoughts. Between Gaillard, and Ibuki, and even Miwa; Kai wished he didn’t have to be so obstinate about these sort of things.

Then, he realized.

“You’re right.”

Kai shook his head. “I thought I’d gotten better at asking people for help. I guess not.”

“Don’t say that,” Aichi smiled at him, and touched him, laying his hand on his thigh. 

They’d reached a conclusion of sorts. Kai had made his mind up. He’d have to schedule a time to meet with his friends as soon as possible.

Despite everything, he felt that he looked forward to it. 

“This is so strange.”

“...What is?”

“I never would have imagined asking them for help with something like this. Ibuki, or Miwa... or Tokura.”

“That’s true. I guess... I guess I feel the same way.” 

Maybe if things had planned out differently, they would have had more time to think, plan, prepare themselves, go over the possible scenarios. The friends they had in common, the pasts and the experiences they shared with them and with each other, despite the hardships that had come and gone, nothing had prepared them for this.

“By the way,” Aichi had been holding it in this entire time. “How did things go today?”

Similarly, Kai had been waiting for that question.

“It went... well. I think.”

Considering the circumstances, he’d have to say things had gone okay. At least in terms of he'd coped.

“So? What did you talk about?” Aichi’s relaxed way of asking was no doubt a way to try and put him at ease.

“Well, we,” In this particular case, Kai felt that it might not work. “We talked about my high school years.”

Kai kept his eyes on the road. He’d realized Aichi’s hand was still on his thigh.

“Also, we talked about,” 

They were on the highway. It was an average day, commuters like them creeping about at reasonable speeds.

“Us.”

It was cloudy again that day, and there were no signs of it clearing up. Kai still believed himself to have caught a reflection of light, a sparkle, in Aichi’s eyes. He smiled in a particular way, a way that to Kai held certain connotations. 

“I see.”

Kai’s silence said more than enough. For once he wasn’t uncomfortable with that.

“We should probably talk about that after we get home.”

That was for the best. He needed to focus as he was driving. Kai loosened his grip on the steering wheel.

“Yeah,” he said, with a sigh.

It would only be so many more minutes.

 _No more,_ Kai thought. _No more of my old fearful self._

He would love Aichi, and he would love him as much as he needed, as much as he could, not only as much as he dared.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The shower was running.

In the limited space, enclosed with paper-thin walls, the sound was impossible to ignore. Kai was actively listening, but he tried to too. He tried not to think of what was happening beyond the bathroom door.

The hallway was part of the kitchen, which was part of the living, which led to the bedroom. Tiny, cramped, and when Kai stood by the two hot plates in his apartment, he could reach his arm outside the kitchen, and across the living room. The bedroom, which was so plain, with dark long curtains and a bed that had always been to large for it; 95 cm was more than enough.

It had been a while since he’d come back here, and it was even emptier than before. To him it was barely endearing. He’d managed to make a few good memories under this roof, at last.

He felt awkward standing up, and went to sit down. He sank down on the bed, and he wished he could lie down, but he knew it wouldn’t make him relax. Alert, Kai was not only nervous. He was also excited. Then, he heard the water stop running. He wasn’t about to panic, not quite. It would still probably be a little while longer.

When Aichi came out of the bathroom, Kai couldn’t spot him before he’d rounded that corner and stood across of him before the front door. He hadn’t washed his hair, but it had gotten a little damp, so he was drying it with a towel thrown across his shoulders. He wore a t-shirt that wasn’t his own. Kai had found it in one of his drawers, and it was a piece of clothing that had been left behind since before he’d gone abroad, something he himself hadn’t really used since they’d both been in school.

“Hey,” Aichi greeted him inconspicuously, but with eyes shining adoringly. Kai could physically feel himself paling.

 _“Hey,”_ Kai repeated, oh so quietly, as Aichi sat in his lap, and he ran his hand down his arm, to his hand.

Kai feared the effort he’d put into bracing himself would be for nothing. All it took was for Aichi to look at him with his steady gaze, the curve of his smile tinted with otherwise unseen playfulness. It was subtle, but Kai could tell.

Aichi kissed him without hesitation. It was not a simple kiss, not in the slightest childish, earnest and revealing of intent, and feeling. When they parted, Aichi held Kai’s face in his hands, fingertips lightly against the surface of his skin, and when he spoke they breathed the same air, their faces pressed together.

“I didn’t want too keep you for too long. I though, you could help me get ready, if you want?”

Kai’s wet lips trembled, and as he tightened his grip on the shirt on Aichi’s back, he remembered to keep breathing.

“Sure.”

Aichi smiled again, wider than before, and he too, looked a little flustered. With his arm over Kai’s shoulder, he hooked onto him tightly, and as he leaned his head to the side, he pulled Kai with him.

“Really?”

With each beat of his heart heavier than the next, Kai felt his excitement slowly starting to outweigh his anxieties. He didn’t need to remember to smile.

“Yeah.”

It felt absurd. A full schedule, littered with matters of incomparable and very tangiable importance. It had been many weeks since Kai had returned to his cramped and empty Tokyo apartment, and many weeks more since Aichi too, had been in town at the same time as him. It had come down to today, circled red only in Kai’s memories, his own internal calendar.

Society’s ideas of romance, the romantic ideal; spontaneous passions, indulgent whims, wordless understanding. The literal opposite of their reality, because they’d had no choice but to plan this. Kai had been frustrated, perhaps even a little cross, once he’d realized that this was how things were going to be.

It had passed the moment he had Aichi in his arms.

Perhaps it was absurd, that they would have to make repeated efforts and match their schedules to find a day they could meet, just to spend time together, just to be alone, just to make love, just so they could be certain they’d get the chance. If that was what it took, then it was just a matter of doing it. As if relationships, as if love, sex and romance didn’t require planning, effort and communication, Kai had thought. He’d learned that the hard way. With each stage, with each step of gradual increasing intimacy he’d had to learn something new about himself. He’d had to learn it, deal with it, overcome it. It sounds simple. In reality, it is not.

There are things that don’t change. Kai could not go back and become the person he used to be, or do things over to become the person he could have been. He could, however, forge a new path from his current location. If there were problems he couldn’t solve, he could decrease the impact they had on his life.

He’d in the past felt like he needed a miracle, maybe some sort of divine intervention, but today it might be doable. Since last time, they’d only had long running text message conversations and occasional multiple hour cross-Atlantic phone calls. Kai’s building confidence was not the cause of one singular event or happening. It had taken him time, but he had eventually learned to accept the idea presented to him. The idea that he needed to come through, not only for Aichi, but for himself as well.

Aichi liked to move. He himself had admitted to it. He hadn’t specified if he preferred it, but Kai had a hard time imagining anything else, with the way how hard he gripped Kai’s hips and how he never failed to keep his steady rhythm. Aichi had told him other things he liked, other things he wanted, and while flustered, embarrassed, he’d been almost painfully earnest. Now, Kai felt overwhelmed thinking about any of those conversations in any amount of detail, and thought it best not to.

Himself, he’d had to learn. Sex in and of itself was arguably about learning, but compared to Aichi, as inexperienced as himself, it had still been on a different level. He’d had to learn his preferences, what he liked, what he wanted. He’d since long known he wanted Aichi, of course, but beyond that he had given himself little time, little opportunity to consider, to discover. It had been partly due to his own self-depriving tendencies, partly due to how the attraction only seemed to remind him of his self-loathing, mostly due to the fact that he’d been absolutely certain nothing good would ever come out of ever pursuing anyone, with Aichi having been the only he’d ever had in mind.

Some things had been easier to discover than others.

Aichi was the type of person who’d audibly yelp if he stubbed his toe, or would let out a cry if you suddenly surprised him by standing behind him. Similarly, he matched the rhythm of his movements with sound, with every breath a sigh, a whine, a moan, and Kai listed that high on the list of things that made it hard for him to last. He’d never actually told him, and he knew he should, that he had to and now, wanted to. Now, he sought Aichi’s lips, but they were hard to catch, at least for that brief moment before Aichi himself realized what Kai wanted.

They kissed, and it was a yearning but distracted kiss. Aichi was no less quiet, instead now panting against Kai’s mouth, and they breathed together. With one hand on Aichi’s lower back, the other in his hair, he pressed himself close. Aichi was prone to make sounds, but he also tended to talk. It helped and he liked to make sure that Kai was okay.

“I’m,” He breathed, “Getting there,”

Words, and delivery, that filled Kai with satisfaction and ease, for oh how he’d hoped they would get here and oh how hard he was trying. If only the words themselves didn’t make him feel like he might not make it.

Clutching his hand in Aichi’s hair, Kai shifted, resting his head on his shoulder. Aichi’s neck was such a comfortable place. He gathered some courage.

 _“Me too,”_ He said, and his voice was barely even a whisper, but as Aichi dug his nails hard into his sides, Kai knew he had heard him.

One moment later, he felt Aichi shiver, and heard him so loud, and Kai let go.

In contrast to Aichi, Kai himself ever hardly made a sound. He’d earlier thought that was just what he was like, not seriously considering he might be holding back in ways he didn’t even know. However, something always seemed to happen, after he’d gone beyond this point. Kai felt himself slip, and as he did, he said Aichi’s name, once, twice, and then again and again until it was all over.

After his mind cleared, it took him a while to catch his breath. He’d taken Aichi’s face in his hands and held him close. Though it was a bit awkward, a bit uncomfortable, they stayed like that for those moments they needed to settle down.

Afterwards, Kai laid under the covers, in the same bed he’d slept during the duration of his high school years, with his head on Aichi’s chest, experiencing a level of ease he wasn’t aware existed. He felt Aichi’s fingers in his hair, and he’d seen the time on his old nightstand watch, reading only 4 pm, and he’d registered the afternoon sun behind the dark drapes. Frankly, he was astonished, astonished at the fact that outside of these walls the world moved on as usual despite the ground breaking fact that his aching, old, black and blue heart appeared to have healed itself.

Maybe it was just for a moment, maybe it would pass, and everything would go back to normal, but he hardly cared.

With his head feeling so light, and Aichi’s heartbeat resonating in his ear, he could not find it in himself to worry.

“Where would you like to go out for dinner?” Aichi asked him, speaking of worldly things.

“Oh, no,” Kai responded without thinking. “I’ll make you something.”

Aichi laughed softly. “Of course. How silly of me.”

He must be light-headed too, Kai thought.

It was still only 4 pm. They could go grocery shopping, and they could cook, leisurely, and if they wanted they could go again, and still have time to go to bed at a reasonable hour. Then, they could wake up together in the morning hours and send each other off.

Before then, they had the time to lay here a bit longer, too.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I don't normally write any notes until the work is finished but the situation calls for it due to... circumstances.

Since this was a Christmas present I wanted to publish as much a possible before Christmas is over, and also because I'm going away tomorrow, 26th of December and not coming back until the 3rd of February. So I'm sorry to say there won't be any updates while I'm gone. I've been through a lot this year and my plans to write this or that went completely out the window. When I decided to do this project I didn't expect it to grow quite so much but I'm frankly very happy it did as it gave me this unique chance at the end of the year to engage myself in writing again. I don't think I've written this much in such a short time before, not that I have much experience with multi chapter stories in the first place.

This has also been very different from anything I've written previously, which proved to be a challenge, even if it's also been fun. I've never written a story focused so much on dialogue and relationships before. I've also only barely written romance... So I feel like I had to learn a bunch new of stuff and had to try and apply a different sort of thinking.

My biggest distraction is in the last 2-3 months I've been writing this is that I've also been catching up with cfvg. It's been less watching the show and more spending a whole lot of time thinking about plots and scenarios I wanna write for the cfvg cast and also thinking about how fun it would be to like, write a story in the style of a cfvg anime plot or something that just in general involves the card game a lot in the story. You know, as you do....... I also built a GC deck this summer and I love it soooo much so that's a related tangent that's also served as a distraction.

I did so much of the editing and proof reading all in one sitting the last night before my trip (tonight), so if there's typos or grammatical errors I'm sorry and also very embarrassed.

Anyway!! My melatonin is kicking in and starting to feel woozy so!! Happy new years and merry xmas and happy holidays, and thank you for reading!!! I'll see you all in February!!! I hope!!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello. This update is a lot later than I would have wanted it to be, but not necessarily later than I expected. My health is unpredictable and sets the pace a lot of the time. I needed a pretty long rest after getting back home from Japan this year. And then, after getting home, incidentally a lot of the energy that I've had has gone into uh, playing Vanguard at local shops here on the weekends. That almost sounds fake but it's true!
> 
> I'd really like to thank everyone who left kudos. For a while there I was getting a few a week, despite the lack of updates, and that really means the world to me. Thank you so much, and I'm sorry about taking this long to update.
> 
> No content warnings this chapter, but you might have noticed the character tags changing. I also listed this work as having 4 chapters total for some reason. There's gonna be at least 2 more after this, so I really don't know why I did that.

 

 

 

 

 

 

It was only so many days later, yet another cup of coffee in Habara’s office.

They’d already talked quite a bit.

“These worries that you describe, do they relate to any actual experiences you’ve had? Do you have any experience with children?”

“No.” Kai had a sudden flashback, a memory. “Well. Not young children.” 

It didn’t even feel like that long ago. It was like a pocket memory stuck in time, hard to place to a specific year. Makoto and Arata, in the backseat of his car, in the seats next to him on the plane, sharing the bunk bed across from his single at the hostel. Back then, he’d barely thought of them as children. He’d only just turned into an adult himself, and perhaps he’d been a bit too busy projecting his past selves onto them. The quest to yet again make do with his past had hardly served as a distraction from any of that.

“It was a long time ago.” Kai added.

“Do you mind telling me bit about it?”

“...I was in my early twenties. I mentored two teenagers.”

“How did that go?”

“It went well. Though I suppose I wasn’t really thinking of it as what it really was.”

“Do you mean that you did not think of it as mentoring?”

“Yes.” Kai responded simply. Perhaps he was running out of energy. His answers had gone back to being short.

“Could you tell me a little more about that? How did you end up in that situation?”

How had he, indeed. Kai felt as if there wasn’t that much to say. He tried to unravel his thoughts, find the right thread.

“They were in the same type of trouble I had been in. In more ways than one.”

Kai knew the question that awaited.

“What sort of trouble?”

Kai had lost people dear to him once, then twice, then a third time. His parents had passed away, left this world. There wasn’t anything that could be done about that. When he gained, and then lost Ren soon there after, he’d felt powerless. When Aichi disappeared, it had been different. He’d learned that there were things he could do.

“They were lost. Like how I used to be.”

Not perhaps the full truth. Makoto and Arata had known where they were headed. They just hadn't know how to get there. 

“They were searching for strength. To accomplish their goals. Like how I used to.”

Habara was thinking. Kai did the same. Every step of the way, every new stone upturned, was like another challenge.

“I did what I could to encourage them.”

“How would you say that went?”

“It went well. In the end, maybe there weren’t that many things they needed help with.”

“You just said yourself you encouraged them. I would say that is the most important thing.” Habara spoke clearly, soberly. She didn’t need to weight him down with her words to get her point across.

“Perhaps.” Kai didn’t disagree, but he also didn’t feel as if his contributions to Arata and Makoto’s development deserved praise. As to why, he couldn’t say.

Habara went over her notes. Like Kai, she was searching for something. May they be equally diligent, but she appeared dignified to him in a way that felt alien. She was a professional, after all.

“You... need to tell me a bit more.” She sought her question, “You’ve made your motivations quite clear. And you say things turned out well. Yet you hesitate to give yourself any credit. Do you think there’s any specific reason for that?”

Kai didn’t quite understand.

“...They were good kids.” Maybe he hadn’t made that clear enough. “In the end, we weren’t that alike. I don’t think I did anything anyone else couldn’t have done.”

“But you did do it.”

The words fell flat in the empty room. No louder than anything else spoken between them. Kai was more confused than before. She was right, of course. But what did it mean?

“Maybe someone else could have done it.” Her voice was devoid of irony. “But you were the one who did it. Our capabilities matter. But our actions matter, as well. Anyone can help others, to an extent. But only those who choose to, actually do.”

Piece by piece, it came together. She made it so simple, so that even he himself could understand. It felt like the realization could slip away at any moment, and Kai tried to desperately keep it in sight.

Kai knew what it was like, to not have anyone to talk to. To not have anyone to rely on. At some point, it had become hard to ignore it when he saw others in that situation. Rain on the window, fog rising, just like that night all those years ago. The time when he’d first felt that way and actually done something about it. It was so distant now, a hazy memory that felt somewhat unreal. He’d been tired that day, for several reasons, and yet he’d chosen to take someone else’s problem and make it his own.

The case of Kiba Shion was a bit different from that of Arata and Makoto. In his life, Kai had made his mistakes, and eventually, he’d learned, he’d improved, and he’d moved on. First things first, when speaking of his experiences, it was best to start at the beginning.

They’d met that day, briefly, and unlike his involvement with Arata and Makoto, it had only been on a whim. Kai had mixed feelings about how things had played out. Shion had needed help, support, but what Kai had offered had perhaps not been the variety Shion had needed. His understanding of his situation had been shallow. Some things are simple, but Shion’s situation had not been that. He’d sought strength just like Kai had at that age, and Kai had perhaps naively added only fuel to the fire. He hadn’t been able to make that kind of judgment back then, and he should have known better. In the end, what had he really passed on?

They say that silence is golden. In this case, Kai disagreed. The greatest lesson he could have given Shion would have been one told with words. Having the strength to stand on one’s own feet is important, having the strength to carry onward when things are hard is important, but none of those things can be gained without first admitting your weaknesses. Kai cursed his silence, for that was what had pushed Shion further away from his friends, and further into pressuring himself so unreasonably.

He held some of the memories dear, others less so. Shion had been victorious, finally, and right there on the big stage he had been so relieved he’d collapsed from his weariness. When Kai had held him in his arms that day, it had been impossible not to think of Aichi. Like with him, Kai had hoped he’d been able to do at least something, something to encourage him, to inspire him. That he'd been able to leave him at least something of value.

In the end, things had worked out. But had it been thanks to him? Kai couldn’t take that sort of credit.

In regards of Arata and Makoto, his feelings were not too different.

“Perhaps. But... I wish I could have done more.”

More, or at least, better.

“Was there anything they said or did that indicated you did them a disservice?”

That was such a hard question. Kai wished he could neatly summarize things, but that felt impossible. He wasn’t even sure he could retell these events faithfully.

“I don’t know. But looking back, there are things I could have done better.”

“Why, would you say, do you feel that way?”

He felt like he was being cornered, but perhaps that was what it took.

“I wish I could have talked to them more. We weren’t as close as we could have been.”

Back then, he’d thought he’d made great improvements, but he’d still had much to learn.

“How would you describe your relationship with them?”

The purpose of the questions, Kai guessed, was to find the source of his anxieties, and bring about conclusions regarding them. He wasn’t sure if they were on the right track. Previous sessions, he’d felt an unspeakable tension. Now, he felt fatigued.

“... I saw myself in them. Perhaps more than I should have. Looking back, maybe we weren’t that alike. Even so, I wanted... I wanted to help them.”

Habara was writing. Kai drew his own conclusions.

“Would you say you were motivated to help them based on the fact that they reminded you of yourself?”

As had she, obviously.

“Well. Yes,”

“And why do you think you felt that way?”

Kai didn’t feel like he had a clear answer. “It was years ago, but...” He searched his feelings. “It was something that I had to do. It was not a matter of choice.”

“Did you feel that it was your duty?”

That was a good way of putting it. “Yes.”

“It is the duty of every adult to protect children.” Habara said, and Kai thought it was an obvious statement that regardless was worth repeating.

“You lost your parents at a young age, and now you have chosen to go through with an adoption process yourself. Would you say there’s a specific reason for that?”

“...Well, obviously.” Kai hadn’t even questioned it. “In the past, we never really considered any other option. And there’s nothing that could have changed that.”

Habara was quiet and Kai saw a chance to properly explained himself. 

“I... couldn’t possibly do anything else. If I were to have a family.”

“And why is that?”

Water droplets stained the window. It was raining harder than before.

“I know there are kids out there who are going through what I did.” Kai could understand why Gaillard worked with the things he did on a deeply personal level. Maybe, if he himself had the same set of talents, skills, he would do the same. “I want to give someone what I never had.”

Older children were commonly overlooked by adopters, or considered unadoptable. Kai wondered if his own life might have been different if that had not been the case.

“Do you see that as something as you have to do? Do you see it as your duty?”

The words hit Kai a lot harder than he was prepared for.

“I... Yes.” He became perplexed. “Of... of course it’s...”

Kai wasn’t sure why she’d just asked him that, and that uncertainty grew into confusion, but only in terms of the question. Suddenly it made sense, something so obvious he himself hadn’t realized it.

“It’s something that I have to do.” He remembered, suddenly, what Aichi had told him. Kai’s thoughts mirrored Aichi’s words. “Because I know... I know what it’s like.”

These were all things he already knew, but with greater clarity, a new truth revealed itself.

“You feel inclined to help children with experiences similar to your own. Would you say you are putting an excessive amount of pressure on yourself?”

Kai had questioned himself in regards of pretty much anything and everything he’d been capable of thinking of, but that question had still not been among them.

“...I wouldn’t say that.” Kai responded. “I don’t think you can put too much pressure on yourself when it comes to something like this.”

Habara had paused without putting her pen down on the paper. The two of them looked at each other for a moment. Kai understood he had said something wrong, but he wasn’t sure what.

“It’s naturally a very important matter. But excessive pressure or high amounts of stress aren’t constructive. It can be devastating for your mental health.”

Kai wasn’t sure how he felt when he heard that. Perhaps, he thought, he should feel stupid. Instead, he didn’t feel much of anything.

“I... see.”

“What would you say is it that makes you put all this pressure on yourself?”

“I don’t want to fail.”

“What is it that you don’t want to fail at?”

“I don’t want to fail as a parent.”

Habara had put her pen down for a moment.

“Is there any particular aspect of parenthood that makes you feel frightened or anxious?”

“I don’t know.” Kai responded earnestly. “If I have a family, I... I want to be there for them.”

“You mentioned before, that, when you were younger, you had tendency to isolate yourself. Is that the reason why you fear you might not fulfill that parental role?”

“...Yes, I... think so.”

Kai had felt it before. The familiar fear, of the darkness and the loneliness, that threatened to swallow him up and take him far away from everyone and everything that he loved. As of recent, he’d felt it again, even after all these years. What had birthed that darkness, if not his own loss, at that crucial time in his life. His fatigue had melted away, and although he welcomed clarity, he felt raw, physical pain rising from his gut. It was as if the fear they’d been speaking of had heard it’s name being called and appeared before him.

“I want to be there for them.” He repeated. The line seemed stuck in his mind, repeating itself. “I don’t want to leave them behind. Or become a burden.”

“You say them. Are you including your husband?”

It had slipped out.

“Yes.”

“Naturally the parents of a child should always help and support one another, and shoulder their responsibilities together. However, the obligations one holds to a partner isn’t on the same level as those they hold to their child. Do you feel as if there’s a greater burden on you compared to your husband?”

Kai didn’t like the word “burden”. He didn’t like it at all.

He shook his head. “No. It’s not that.”

He wanted to explain. “Aichi’s always been there for me. He’s always helped me, believed in me. I want to do the same for him.”

“Given the things you’ve told me, I’ve understood it as him having a very good picture of your situation and your needs.”

“Yes.” Aichi did have that, more than anyone. Kai often felt that Aichi knew him better than he did himself. “That's true. But things haven’t been easy for him, either. He’s had... his own struggles. Separate to mine. I know he'll always support me.” Kai had been able to accept that. “But this is different.”

“How is it different?”

“He used to be alone. A lot.”

Kai realized he'd stopped making sense. His body felt heavier than before.

The meeting wasn’t about Aichi, but it was somewhat surprising that they hadn’t spoken more about him. This was not an easy story to tell, which wasn’t to say it was complex.

“When we were kids, he didn’t have anyone. No-one saw him, or was there for him.”

“He was, alone?”

She phrased it so simply, it was almost out of character. Kai knew he had to make a conscious decision of some sort. There were some things Aichi had told him confidentially. There were things meant to be shared only between the two of them, things that were part of their unique story, things that weren’t for other people’s ears. That was how he felt. Of course, a fair amount of that information he’d already spilled. Most notably last session. In the end, however, it had mostly revolved around himself.

This was different. With few options available, Kai knew he had no choice but trust that Aichi would not hold him in contempt for speaking of him. And trust he did, that was not an issue. It was mostly a matter of principle. More than anything though, it was a matter of the emotional toll.

“He was,” Kai held his breath, his mind void of words that fit to fill the blanks. He wanted to be clear, but he could never simplify Aichi’s past. “Forsaken. By the people who should have protected him.”

Kai sighed. In frustration. After all these years, his emotions had lost their nuance. All that was left was sadness and anger. Now, as an adult himself, it was harder than ever to forgive those oversights.

“Around when was this?”

Kai silence had dragged on. “It was all the time.” His anger was seeping through. “Since his first year of school. Up until high school. Everyday. It was hell for him.”

Kai was hardly finished, but he already felt like he needed a break.

“We weren’t close. But we’d met. I knew of him.” Saying that felt so strange. “Still, it’s not like I understood. Even now, I,” It was hard to speak, but for different reasons than before. “It’s not like I could fully understand what it was like for him.”

“I’m sorry, but could you tell me more specifically what he went through?”

He knew she would ask, at least as long as he didn’t tell.

“To the extent you’re comfortable with, of course.”

That made it sound so severe. And it was, but Kai couldn’t bear with the implications.

“The other kids beat him. Everyday.” There really was no other way of telling the story. “For a long time, no one really did anything to help him. He eventually transferred schools, but he was still alone.”

Kai’s anger still colored his voice. It had been a painful and drawn out affair. Those kids who did those things to Aichi were adults now, too, and they were out there, somewhere. Kai had no way of knowing how they were doing, or how they'd fared. It was frustrating to think about how they had never faced any consequences for their actions. However, what truly angered him was the lacking responsibility among the adults who should have done so much yet did so little. In a way, he included Aichi's mother in this, although he knew things were more complicated than that. Children are hardly proud to be bullied. Just like Kai had hidden his suffering, so had Aichi.

"Things got better for him eventually. But it took a very long time." Their reunion had been a starting point of sorts, but it had also complicated things. "Sometimes, I can still see it. How he suffers from it."

It had left its mark. Permanently. It was the same as for himself. That trauma during his developmental years had affected who Aichi was, downright affected his personality. Many years had passed, and Aichi was stronger than ever, but the fact remained. It no longer necessarily hurt him, or hindered him, but it was still there.

Kai had been aware for some time, that he was choking up. It still took him by surprise that he realized he was crying.

"Are you afraid you will leave him, isolate yourself from him?"

He was, and he had been all this time. Kai realized how he'd barely had the courage to explore those fears. He hadn't dared to think about it.

"I, I am, but..." There was a tissue box on the table, well within reach. Right now though, Kai felt there was little point. The tears would keep falling. "I don't know." He was earnest. "He promised me. A long time ago. That he'd always be there for me, help me, take me down the right path."

"I believed him then. I still do." Kai believed in few things with absolute certainty. Aichi was one of them. "But, I, I don't..."

Where his faith in Aichi triumphed, the faith in himself failed. It was old news.

"I don't know what I'd do, if I ever put him through something like that." The words left him feeling like he'd shed a part of himself.

"Could you give me an example of what you mean?"

That was harder than it should be. Perhaps it was proof his fears were baseless. Kai wished he could believe that.

"I don't know. He's done so much for me. I want him to be able to rely on me. I don't want to fall apart. I don't want him to carry things all on his own." Kai felt like he was repeating himself. "I think, more than anything I... I don't want to be the person who makes him feel like he's been left all alone."

When they first met that day, all those years ago, Kai hadn't known much, and probably understood less. But he'd understood enough, he'd recognized someone in need when he saw it. It was a precious memory, but in that recollection he feared that he saw the future.

It was then, with a scrambled mind, that Kai had a strange realization. When he was sad, his life felt like a loop, rather than a line. Memories overlapping, events repeating, a cycle he was powerless to stop. Now as it happened again, he made a different sort of connection. Shion had reminded him of Aichi that day, and he’d felt little reason to articulate why. It was obvious enough, maybe too obvious. The similarities between them had served as a distraction. All this time, what he’d failed to do, was to turn the situation around, and look from another perspective. What he’d failed to do was to look at himself.

His ability to reach out to people was not something he had needed to teach himself. It was an ability he had regained. Like a monument in time, his relationship with Aichi was the indisputable proof.

He dried his tears. He’d found consolation within himself, for once. In tears it was hard to feel dignified, but he’d come quite close. Kai still grieved, in many ways, but he dared to believe maybe he didn’t have to be overcome by it.

Habara had given him a few minutes. She didn’t ask if he was okay, she just waited, and he was thankful for that.

“Have you ever had any issue with isolating yourself since becoming an adult? For example, suddenly dropping or cutting people out of your life?”

“No, I...” Kai tried to think carefully. He tried, as well as he could. “I don’t think so.”

“So would you say that it is the fear and anxiety in itself that is the root to your problem?”

“I... Maybe.” Kai suddenly felt as if he couldn’t trust himself at all. “It’s been a long time. But I feel like... I feel like I still have it. Somewhere.”

Kai was clearly taken, and Habara let him gather his thoughts. Moments later, the rain had started whipping hard against the window, and Kai still had nothing.

“Before, you seemed inclined to agree with me when I suggested the extraordinary circumstances may be what's causing a resurgence of symptoms that are otherwise manageable. How do you feel about that?”

Kai inhaled tensely.

“I think it’s true. But I don’t understand what difference it makes.”

“What do you mean?”

Kai realized him and Habara took different things for granted.

“If this is extraordinary, then how will things be if we do have a child?”

“Many people find being judged to be incredibly stressful, especially when it has to do with things that are as important as family or child rearing.”

“The evaluation process has been... stressful.” Kai hadn’t seen the evaluation as the main obstacle. The main obstacle was himself. “But it’s just a beginning. It’s what comes afterwards that worries me.”

“Are you referring to your day-to-day life?”

He had been fearful this entire time, but putting it like that made it sound so different.

“I suppose so.”

“What aspects of your possible future day-to-day life would you say worries you?”

Again, Kai did not know. He wasn’t sure if it was driving him more or less crazy.

He thought about it hard. He had to say something. If no specific example, then there should be a more fundamental problem.

“I... don’t know if someone like me could be a parent.”

Kai was well aware of how far back he’d back-pedaled. They might as well have made no improvement whatsoever.

Habara, however, did not appear impatient.

“There are people who’ve suffered through trauma, who fight depression and other mental health issues and still are fine parents. As a medical professional, you have my word on that.”

The words fell into place, and while Kai felt it would be a process on it’s own to fully accept that may apply to himself as well, he dared to feel somewhat comforted.

“It’s just a matter of being aware of your problems and working to solve them. Would you be prepared to do that?”

As his tears dried, Kai had felt emotional, yet drained, hollow. Hollow cavities allowed for new thought, new ideas, new conceps. Kai knew the answer to this one.

“I... I would do anything.” 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Kai had gotten there early. He’d seated himself and had good hopes of keeping the seats at the table open.

It wasn’t early anymore, afternoon had turned into evening. Coffee shops only stayed open that long. He’d gotten a cup of tea which he’d yet to touch. He felt strangely detached, and did not feel particularly compelled to figure out exactly why.

Miwa was not late by any means. In fact, he was a little early, too. He’d entered through the front double doors, along with a gust of wind from the cold outdoors, and their eyes met across the room.

He waved, grinning, and was off to order. Kai had simply lifted his hand in response to greet him.

It only took him a moment before he appeared before Kai at their table.

“Tea? Shit, I got a beer.” Glass and bottle clinked together as he put them down on the table. Miwa took off his jacket and unraveled his scarf.

“Well, it’s not a drinking party.” Kai replied, not in the slightest offended.

“So, how we doing?” Miwa took his seat.

“I got you some papers. Emi asked for some references. You might want to have a look.”

“Oh, yeah. I didn’t realize that was a thing.” Miwa flipped through the folder Kai had slipped him, and noted the tell-tale TU logos on all the material. Aichi had printed these at work.

“How’s Aichi?” Miwa asked the very moment he’d remembered him.

“He’s working late,” Kai said, sipping his tea. Bitter. Good. It helped him concentrate.

“Really?”

“Yes, seeing as I’ll be out late anyhow.”

“Never a day off, huh?” Miwa poured his beer. “How ‘bout we all meet up afterwards? We could go out for dinner. I mean, you’re meeting up with him, right?”

“I don’t know,” Kai replied. “It’s already late.”

Miwa smiled wryly, but decided not to push him. At least not yet. “Speaking of people who’re always busy, I guess Ibuki’s not here yet, huh.”

Ibuki was the reason they were meeting late in the first place. 

“He’ll show.” Kai said with certainty. He would’ve already canceled on them if that was the case. He wasn’t unreliable like that.

“Oh, I didn’t mean to imply he wouldn’t. But you’ve talked to him, right?”

“I haven’t.” Kai admitted.

“Wait, you haven’t? But he knows what’s up, right?” Miwa sounded mildly alarmed.

“He knows.” It had incidentally been Aichi who’d told him. “I wanted to ask him in person.”

“S’cause he’s kinda difficult, yeah? Not just because you wanted to give him special treatment?”

Miwa had joked, and Kai smiled.

“Something like that.”

Kai had just wanted to ask him in an environment where he’d be certain they could talk freely. Miwa being there helped too. It would not be a relaxed night out, but they were all friends, and like this they could all speak freely.

He also had something else he wanted to talk about, if the opportunity allowed it.

Ibuki was late, but it had been no more than a few minutes post the appointed time when he came rushing into the café, coming to a stop just inside the door. With a bewildered expression that was ill-suited for him, he searched for Kai and Miwa among the seated patrons, unaware that they were watching him.

“Ooh, here he is,” Miwa snickered as he raised his hand to wave Ibuki in.

There was no point in shouting, he wouldn’t hear them, but he found them in just a moment. He came to sit with them a few minutes later, coat under his arm and with a tall glass of coffee. People were now lining up all the way to the door. Ibuki had come in the nick of time.

“Hey, how are you?” Miwa threw his arms out. “It’s been way too long.”

Ibuki smiled. “It hasn’t been that long, has it?”

“I don’t know, how long is long to you?”

Although he knew Miwa was joking, Ibuki failed to answer. Kai set his tea cup down. “It has been a while since it was just the three of us.”

“I do suppose so. Kai, how are you?”

Ibuki naturally had reason to ask. How considerate.

“I’m getting by.” Kai appreciated it. “How about you? You must be busy.”

“Not that much more than usual. It’s good to see you.”

“As for me, I am doing great, thanks for asking,” Miwa wouldn’t wait for them ask.

Ibuki stirred his coffee. “What are you doing these days?”

“Oh, you know,” Miwa grinned. “The usual.”

“I hope you’re not burdening Tokura too much.”

“Oh, she needs me around. I glow up the place.”

Kai had paused with his cup in hand. “Did she say that?”

“Oh, she doesn’t have to _say_ it,” Miwa shook his head, letting the charades go. “I’m doing fine. I like my job too. I mean we can’t all be out there making careers,”

“Or having long-terms relationships,” Miwa turned to Kai, “Or families,”

Kai half-heartedly wished Miwa hadn’t said that. He still smiled. “Don’t say that,”

“Hey, alright, I won’t,” Miwa smiled too. “But you know where my bet’s at.”

“Kai. If I may, what was it that you wanted to ask of me?” Ibuki had naturally caught on to the situation.

Kai had prepared, to an extent, what to say. Right now, though, he felt that he’d rather small talk for a while longer. Seeing as Ibuki had asked him directly though, he could hardly do anything but respond.

“A lot has been going on lately.” Kai admitted, “I wish things could have been different. That I would’ve had the chance to talk to you sooner.”

“I don’t know the details, but that sounds like something you shouldn’t be concerning yourself with right now.”

“Yeah,” Miwa agreed. “You’re making the best out of the situation, aren’t you?”

Kai felt inclined to agree. Maybe he was doing better. Regardless, it was good to hear them say that, even if he hadn’t really expected anything else.

”Thank you,” Kai said, “But this is still a lot to ask with such short notice.”

“You said you... needed a favor?” Ibuki asked. He knew it had to do with the adoption but no more than that.

Kai was silent for a second. “I realize you’re busy. I already asked Miwa. I’ve discussed it with Aichi, and we've decided to ask you too.”

Ibuki listened, and Kai reached to slide Ibuki the same papers he’d given Miwa earlier.

“In order to get accepted, we need recommendation letters. We have four people who’ve agreed already, but if you have the time, maybe you could consider it.”

“Consider it?” Ibuki looked like he might laugh. “Kai, of course I’ll do it.”

“I want you to... Give it some time. Think about it.”

“What is there to think about? Didn’t you say you were pressed for time?”

“You don't have to feel like you have to do it. You’re already busy.”

Ibuki turned his head. “M-maybe so, but...”

Miwa let them talk it out, and let them fall silent. Ibuki sighed. “Isn’t this a whole lot more important than my job?”

“Your job is still important.” Kai remembered a conversation he’d had with Aichi not too long ago. “I heard you’re in the middle of arranging a new annual set of tournaments aimed specifically at beginners.”

“Oh yeah,” Miwa leaned forward in his seat. “I heard some of the kids at the shop talking about that the other day. I guess the rumors are out, huh?”

“You’re also doing that series of exhibition matches, I hear.”

Ibuki’s smile was somewhat strained. “I suppose Sendou couldn’t keep quiet about that, huh.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” Kai replied, earnestly.

“There’s also the usual Vanguard regionals starting again soon, you know?”

“Of course, I, I know...” Ibuki retorted back to Miwa. This was his job they were talking about after all.

Ibuki took a strengthening sip of his coffee.

“I’ll do as you said,” He said, with newfound resolve. He collected the papers off table and slid them into his bag. “I’ll think about it.”

“I’ll think about it,” Ibuki continued, soberly, “And I’ll solve this somehow. I’ll think of something.”

“Alright.” Kai was satisfied. “Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome.”

Kai had barely sensed the tension that had just dispersed. This had gone better than expected. They all enjoyed their drinks and drifted onto more easy-going subjects, tying back to Ibuki’s job, the predictions for the following years’ topping teams, tidbits from Miwa’s shifts at the shop, and even a revisit to the past or two.

Speaking of their childhood jogged Ibuki’s memory. It had been then that he decided to address something that had been on his mind.

“Kai, when I spoke to Sendou he... he mentioned that you were short on time, as did you just now.” Aichi had said more than that, but Ibuki wasn’t certain which parts that were relevant. “Why is that?”

Kai had been planning to tell them. They more or less needed to know.

“Yes...” He wasn’t sure where to start. “That’s the whole reason we’re doing this the way we are.”

Miwa seemed to come to. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve told you part of this story before,” Kai looked at Miwa, “It started with Gaillard. He still works a lot with Parisian orphanages. He was the one who first heard the story.”

Kai had his hands folded on the table. “There’s... a girl. She’s still in Japan, for now. She’s six, going to be seven later this year.”

Kai had not met her, or seen her picture. He had only read her name in the papers Gaillard had sent him.

“She was born to a French father and Japanese mother. Her father was many years her mother’s senior and passed away when she was very young. She was raised in Japan, and only speaks Japanese.”

Kai himself realized that the direction of the story had become fairly obvious.

“Her mother passed away this summer after several years of illness. She has Japanese relatives, grandparents, but they are elderly. It’s very unlikely they can gain full custody of her. But she does have French relatives. So, as it is now, there’s a possibility she might be sent back to live with them.”

“Even though she’s like, never met them, or lived there?” Miwa sounded sceptical.

“We don’t know for sure yet.” Kai said. “It’s all being dealt with. We have an application, too. It’s a matter of it getting accepted.”

“She has dual citizenship. So there’s been some issues regarding who’s responsibility the situation is. For now the Japanese authorities are dealing with it.”

Ibuki wasn’t sure what type of story he had expected. He felt the weight of Kai’s burden. “This must be very stressful.”

“It is.” Kai said, quietly. “But it’s nothing compared to what she’s going through.”

“Of course,” Ibuki sounded almost appalled. He didn’t quite know what to say. He knew Kai’s story. “You’re absolutely doing the right thing.”

“Yeah, she needs to stay.” Miwa sounded more certain than either of them. “I mean, she still has friends here, right? And family. And she just lost her mom.”

Kai had thought about that. He had thought about it every day for many weeks now. It ate away at him.

“Yes,” He said quietly. “She needs to stay, at least until she is old enough to decide for herself where she wants to live.”

“If...” He tried to compose himself. “If we do get approved,” Just saying those words felt like casting a curse upon himself. “Then we’ll have her stay at the same school. We’ll let her see her grandparents as often as we can. And, we’ll go to Paris, and see her relatives there, too. She should be able to have all of those things.”

“That sounds like a great idea.” Ibuki smiled quite warmly.

“Yeah, it does.” Miwa agreed. “I bet the agency will recognize that, too.”

“I hope so.” Kai felt better. Maybe talking about this had been a much better idea than he’d realized.

“My French isn’t what it used to be. And I was never that great at speaking... But if she wanted, maybe I could help her learn.” Kai had thought quite a bit about those sort of things, all the different little details, the practical ways he could put himself to use.

“It sounds to me like you’ve thought this through quite a bit,” Was Ibuki’s earnest observation.

“... I haven’t been able to take my mind off it.” Kai stared down into his tea cup.

Miwa and Ibuki both weighted their options in how to respond. As hopeful as they wanted to be, any more words of reassurance would feel empty. They both felt an alarming lack of experience with this specific type of situation.

“Of course you have,” Miwa said, “Anyone would, you know.”

“Yeah,” Kai replied quietly.

Ibuki said nothing, but felt all the more determined to do what he could to help. There wasn’t anything he could say to make things better, but there were things he could do.

 

 

 

The sun had set. The cold snap hit you like a wall outside the comfortable warmth of the cafe.

“So? Now what?” Miwa seemed excited. “Where we headed next?”

“...I gotta get home. To make dinner.” Kai did what he could to let him down easy.

“Really? I mean, come on, we can eat out, right? We could pick up Aichi on the way.”

Kai shook his head. “I’m sorry, Miwa. Today’s not... a good day.”

Kai was exhausted. He wanted to go home.

Miwa sighed. He turned to Ibuki. “How about you, huh? We could have a drink or something.”

“... I have a telephone conference after this. International call. I’m really sorry.”

_“Seriously?”_

The layer of discomfort laid thick over them.

Kai was displeased. He owe them at least a few hours of his time, and for more than just asking for favors.

“We’ll get dinner,” He said, “When thing have settled down, we’ll all get together.”

Miwa wasn’t entirely convinced, but happily entertained the idea. “Okay, fine. We’ll all get together, me, you, Aichi, my good ol’ boss, and whoever else’s up for it.”

“You in?” He asked Ibuki.

Ibuki considered what to answer. “I’ll be there. Even if I’m busy, I’ll make time. I promise.”

Miwa laughed. “Alright!”

Kai felt somewhat relieved. He’d hadn’t dared to think more than a day ahead at a time for so long he’d almost forgotten what it was like. It cut through some of his delusions. The prospect of a dinner party with all of his friends was something he dared to be optimistic about, even with the uncertain future that it would take place in.

They said their goodbyes, and when they parted that night, Kai felt slightly lighter than he had that morning.

Allowing yourself to ask for help did make a difference. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A September afternoon, sunny and clear. 

It was before the dreary fall weather, before the numerous soul searching office meeting. Summer heat had yet to fade..

Kai had waited those few moments with the engines on. When Aichi was in the car, and they were on the road, that was when he decided to tell him.

“I thought we could go out for some food,”

“Really? It’s not that late yet,”

Kai saw Aichi going through his email inbox using his phone. Working.

“It’ll be a while.” Kai replied, more ambiguous than usual.

“Oh? How’s so? Do you have a place in mind?”

Looking up from his phone, Aichi caught Kai smiling.

“I guess so.”

They had no bustling social circles, no hobbies outside of their jobs, no late nights out. Kai’s old adventurous trips had become familiar, worn-out roads. Unless it was smack in the middle of tournament season, unless Aichi’s constant observations and information exchanges detected anomalies, their lives could be described as mundane. Kai and Aichi did not mind for the most part. Certainly the future would throw something at them, sooner or later, even if they did not know when, or what roles they might play. In between, there was nothing wrong with a mostly uneventful, normal life.

However, Aichi thought, that perhaps things had dragged on a bit too much. A slight deviation from their usual everyday could do them good. At the very least in times like these, they could need a distraction.

“Hey, come on,” Aichi had grown curious. “Where are we going?”

“... Sagami Bay.”

That didn’t really tell Aichi anything. Except,

“That’s pretty far.”

It could take them up to two hours at this time of day.

“Yes, it is.”

Kai said no more than that, and tried to ignore Aichi peering at him. He wanted to know, because he was curious, but if Kai was planning to surprise him, he didn’t want to ruin it. He wanted to ask more, and he would. Aichi wanted to push him, and he would; just a little.

“Is it some new restaurant you’re interested in?”

“No.”

There was a playful tension between them that Aichi didn't recognize. It was new, and unique; precious. Aichi wanted to indulge himself. “So? What is it then?”

“It’s nothing new.” Leaning to his side, Kai had turned to face him. He felt it too, and he struggled. It was hard, but he managed to keep his smile from widening. “It’s nothing you haven’t seen before.”

When they’d been young, fresh and newly dating, they’d hardly, if ever, played around or teased. Kai felt excitement accumulating, building up, trying to break free. He had to contain it a bit longer. Now was not the time. In jest of protest, Aichi threw himself back in his seat. “You’re not telling, are you?”

“I have told you.”

Aichi leaned back and looked out the window. The feeling of anticipation felt almost nostalgic. He thought carefully. He looked at Kai, whose eyes were on the road. Unquestionably, he seemed a little tense, but Aichi’s own excitement had already rubbed off on him.

“I thought you might complain, since it’s a Thursday.”

“Have I ever complained to you about anything like this ever before?”

Good point, Kai thought.

“We never go out. We might as well.”

Unlike himself, Aichi could be quite flexible. He could simplify things by just using his down to earth attitude. Kai wondered why he ever worried.

“Not that I mind that we usually don’t,”

“Oh, I know that.”

In the past, Kai used to think he and Aichi were worlds-apart levels of different. When he was young, it had also worked as yet another good excuse to keep his distance from him, despite that being the last thing he actually wanted. He hadn’t ever thought they could have been friends, let alone anything else. Even if he hadn’t disliked himself so much, he certainly could have found more than enough excuses elsewhere.

He was still often caught up in their differences, thinking that they were like day and night, spring and fall. Still engrossed by all the things Aichi was that he was not, and all the things Aichi could do that he could not. It could bring him down, or it could elevate him. The conclusions were double-edged. 

Which was why, it was liberating to indulge in their similarities, of which there were many more then he’d ever realized when he was young. They both enjoyed simple things. They both needed privacy, stillness, quiet. They were both hard-working, and approached work and hobbies alike with a focused mind. They were contemplative. They could both be quite shy. Their ideal weekend they would spend at home, together, catching up with each other. In contrast, they could both easily become uncomfortable at larger social gatherings or in busy public spaces. It wasn’t in their nature to thoughtlessly brace a night out on the town.

Still though, that they ended up stuck at home as often as they did was somewhat tragic, Kai thought.

The sun had started to set once the ocean was visible on the horizon.

Kai parked the car roadside. The ocean was calm this evening, but filtered through the sounds of the city you could still hear the waves lick the coastline. The beach was clear of people. Summer vacation was over. The sun-bleached beach side kiosks and café tables were noticeable only by the shadows they cast. They would hardly remain visible after sundown. They held an easy pace, and as soon as they walked side by side, Aichi reached to take Kai’s arm. He didn't ask any questions. He wasn’t that impatient.

Aichi saw the bridge ahead, the crossing from the mainland to Enoshima. It wasn’t far, to the bridge nor to the islet, and Aichi thought it looked inviting as he saw the lights from the shops and the silhouette of the hill with its greenery.

Thus, Aichi did not question it when Kai said, “Maybe we could cross the bridge,” as if the thought had only just hit him, too.

The walkway, the two-way road, lined with the white sculptures of a coiling dragon, and past that, the wind-worn old buildings of something akin a meager village’s equivalent to a city core. Enoshima might pass as a small ecosystem on it’s own, at least at a glance, or in a child’s eyes.

The tourist information was closed, the souvenir shops were closed, but the one immediate seafood restaurant was open for a few more hours. The customers were few; it was indeed a Thursday night in September. Aichi saw Kai browse the menu with a contemplative expression he himself was unaware of. Certainly they hadn't come here for the food.

They ordered. They ate. They had a good time. The food was good, simple, rustic Japanese seafood that “brings things back to basics, makes good use of the fish’s natural flavors” as Kai had put it. Only Aichi had a bit to drink, and during their shared conversation he stifled his laughter on a seafood skewer and downed with beer.

It was getting late, the shop was closing, and Kai and Aichi were among the last to leave as the cashiers counted the shop’s earnings and the lights in the kitchen went out. Outside, the sun had sunk below the horizon without nary a trace. It was pitch dark, a remnant of summer. Soon, the decorative lights that traced the hillside pathways and dressed the trees on the hilltop would be the only telltale of human activity as the islet rested in an ink black ocean.

Aichi was full, content, and the tiniest bit drunk, and he’d all but forgotten Kai’s secretive smile and devious responses that had occupied him for the duration of the car ride.

“Want to take a walk?” Kai had asked, just as they stepped outside. Aichi was feeling a little energized, and ready to agree.

“Sure!”

Uphill, past the closed shops selling sweets and sundries, past the shrine grounds, past the hilltop park’s light shows. They didn’t stop here, where a few people still remained. Downhill, oceanside, into the forest path, down the steep stairs, and there the dramatic cliffs revealed themselves, inviting to the dark open waters.

Kai had gone quiet, saying not a word. When Aichi slowed down to stop at the designated viewpoint, Kai took his hand, and brought him along further down the path. Kai offered no explanation, but Aichi knew that even when he lost his words, Kai was never without reason, nor was he a man of whims.

Aichi tightly returned the grip on his hand.

The staircase brought them to the rock bed before the shoreline. Aichi’s first thought as they stopped was how clearly he could hear the ocean now. The horizon showed faint remnants of a sunset they hadn’t witnessed, and Aichi knew the names of all the handful visible stars. As the last of the sun’s light drained from the sky, he knew more of them would soon appear.

Aichi was lost in his observations, but his thoughts were shattered by the sound of the ocean, one crashing wave against the rocks. The saltwater smell, the night sky, Kai’s shoulders lined up next to his own; so many years ago, a memory so close to his heart. Kai held his hand to tightly, and Aichi turned to see that Kai had been watching him.

As searing sensations welled up within, the soft evening breeze felt surreal on his skin. Aichi would have searched his recollections for a motivation, a context, if his mind had not been blank beyond the emotions swelling with his realization.

“I didn’t know where to take you, with such short notice.” Kai spoke quietly.

“I’ve never actually been here before,” He admitted.

“It’s very beautiful,” Aichi’s words came before his thoughts. He felt overwhelmed. 

“Yeah.” Kai smiled, and he looked so fragile. Aichi himself felt no different. “Even if it's not really what I imagined.”

Aichi had left his questions behind him in the car, where the conversation had first started. Now, more so than before, he wasn’t sure what to expect.

“There’s something I... want to tell you.”

Kai knew what he wanted to say, word by word. But even with all his hesitation shed, left behind, he couldn't not find his poise. All he had left was sincerity.

“What is it?” Aichi asked, not leaving him hanging for a second.

“It's something I should have told you a long time ago.”

With his other hand, Aichi held his troubled face in his hands. They’d drawn closer in the dark. It was alright. They were alone.

“I’m sure you remember. What I told you... back then.”

“Of course I remember. About our paths crossing... right?” Aichi worried about having to reassure him about that. His voice was light like the feeling in his chest upon reminiscing. “I was so happy that day.”

“I’d like to... amend that.”

“What do you mean?”

At the time, it had felt like such an achievement, and it had made so much sense. Although Kai knew he’d had good intentions, and rightfully celebrated his own victories, he still had bones to pick with his past self.

“I don’t want our paths to cross. I don’t want to be a crossroad in your life. Back then, I was happy to be. I thought it was all I could be.”

It had felt like more than enough.

“It's different now. It's been different for a long time.” Kai leaned forward, tipping his head. Aichi stroke his face. “... But I never told you.”

“You don’t have to tell me,” Aichi tried to comfort him. “I know.”

“I don’t want our paths to just cross. I want to walk down the same path as you. By your side.”

As the weight lifted off of him, Kai drew a fresh breath.

“Yeah,” Aichi’s voice quivered, and he smiled dearly. “Me too.”

Kai knew that. He did not doubt it. He returned Aichi’s smile, and as their eyes met, his feelings burned so comfortably warm.

“I just feel bad,” He admitted. “Because of the requirements, we’re getting married. Even if only on paper. It made me realize I... I never told you. I never told you what I wanted.”

Aichi discarded the excuses.

“You told me now. That’s more than enough.”

The sky would only darken. Aichi’s predictions came true, and they kissed under a sky of stars.

Even if only for a brief moment, Kai felt the past and present overlap. The passing dusk, the smell of the ocean, as clear now as it had been then; with or without Aichi in his arms. Lonesome and lost summer evenings with his thoughts weighing him down like an anchor, an unthinkable reconstructed reality without Aichi. The glistening stars, the shared silence broken with what could have been promises. Side by side, close, but never too close. Only the warmth of lips on his own was not a memory.

That first summer, Kai had only been 16 years old. At that age, he had yet to dare thinking of kissing Aichi. No, that hadn’t come until later. For that very reason though, in that passing moment, Kai held his young self in his thoughts. His young, brave yet cowardly self, who still had so much to discover, so much to learn. Kai confidently kissed Aichi, and savored it, knowing he had once considered it unthinkable, knowing the idea in itself would have left him raging with fear and paralyzed in wonder.

The past would never go away, and each and every single person that he had ever been would always live on inside him. On this night, Kai found it comforting to know his old hopeless teenage self could keep on living through his own endeavors. He was not yet dead, not yet buried, he was still living, still dreaming, for they were one and the same.

 

 

 

The surroundings of their seaside parking spot had become even more vacant upon return. They’d taken their time, going out, going back, but things never dragged on. Time seemed to fly them by. When Kai felt his eyes dry up with fatigue the first time, it didn’t bother him, and it never crossed his mind to check the time.

Aichi fell asleep in the car on the way back home. It was way past midnight, and unlike Kai he’d been awake since early that morning.

Kai drew a tired, satisfied sigh. He longed for their home, but he watched Aichi sleep in the reflection of the windshield, and enjoyed the trip, this trip they shared, down the same road, headed to the same destination.

 

 

 

 

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was delayed some 6-8 weeks due to illness and other circumstances. Additionally it's longer than previous chapters which also took extra time. Hopefully the extra length makes up for the delay a bit. Extending big thanks to everyone who left support in form of comments and kudos!
> 
> Actual author's notes featured at end of work.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The brown bound envelope might as well have contained a manuscript. If Kai hadn’t known any better, he certainly would have assumed so. Ibuki had called him the week before, only days after their coffee shop meeting. Though it was usually hidden behind a veil of composure, Ibuki was a deeply emotional person. Kai was poor at handling that sort of thing, but it was alright. True to heart, and well articulated, Ibuki was genuine. The older he got, the more he seemed to embrace those aspects of himself. He had a plan, he’d said. An idea. He only needed Kai and Aichi’s approval, which he’d received. Kai didn’t know exactly how the process had been handled. He hadn’t asked to know. He sort of didn’t want to know. Maybe another time. Maybe it could be a fun story they’d talk about when they were older, or it would be something they’d never speak of ever again. Only time would tell.

Aichi had passed the envelope to him, and the following conversation felt so business like, as if they were on the job. They basically were. Kai would have felt emotionally overwhelmed if he’d let himself actually think about it in any other way. Normally, the plan would have been to let matters rest overnight, clear his head and tackle it in the morning. Now, he couldn’t really do that. This was it.

Ibuki had briefed them, of course, although in different stages of the development. The papers shared evenly between them, Kai and Aichi sat next to each other in the living room. How much cherry picking would be needed, they didn’t know, but they were about to find out.

 _“Oh,”_ Aichi’s reaction was almost instantaneous. He was smiling somewhat precautiously. “Ren got us one.”

“Oh.” Kai mirrored his reaction, although he wasn’t very surprised.

“Shouldn’t you read this one?” Aichi asked him, and, Kai frankly didn’t feel too eager. He wasn’t too eager to do any of this, but luckily they shared the workload.

“No, you can read it.”

“Alright,” Aichi didn’t argue.

Kai decided to skim through his own pile. Names, familiar, some with more associations than others. Anjou Mamoru; a good friend, but Kai struggled to remember when they’d last spoken beyond a greeting, and felt a little bad. Narumi Asaka and Shinjou Testu; them too? Well, it couldn’t hurt. Kiba Shion; taken, Kai set that one aside. He wasn’t looking forward to reading much of any of this, it was all a delicate subject, but Shion’s contribution held a certain significance to him. 

Ibuki’s plan had bore fruit with unexpected speed. He had his own resources, and opportunities, and he’d put himself to work. He hadn’t fully expected Kai and Aichi to go along with his idea, and when he’d rung them up that day he hadn’t known how they’d react. He’d written a few pages himself, but he found it inadequate to say the least. Ibuki had known Kai and Aichi for many years now, but he wasn’t the only one. With permission, he’d issued requests to a number of people, accounts of many different kinds, to be compiled. He had curated some of the contents himself, but the final say was naturally not left to him.

It was a little unorthodox. Some accounts were longer than others, and in the issue the proper references had been included. At least one or two submissions were recommendation letters in their own right.

Kai and Aichi had another long night ahead of them, but hopefully it would be the last of its kind. This was the last step, the last stretch, the last piece of the puzzle. Habara had submitted her evaluation to the agency, but not before sending him a copy. Kai had read it, anxiously. Now, he had more recounts of himself to read.

The tea they’d made would go cold, and the sun would set. The cats littered about the living room, and when Gloria whined at the door they decided to take a break. A walk outdoors was a nice way to clear your head.

Kai felt as if though he could physically feel some of the words, the statements, justle about in his head. They felt like intruders. His friends only had good things to say about him, and somehow, that was hard to accept. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever be able to accept it, but he was ready to give it time.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The television was on but the volume was turned down low. The neighborhood was quiet, and Kai was focused. He didn’t have to strain his ears. His phone rested on the coffee table in the living room, and he made sure to stay within reach of it.

He would have liked to be there, at the stadium, but the seat that had been reserved for him was empty. Kai thought idly about the atmosphere at the stadium, the Odaiba location, a place he’d been to himself so many times. The familiar voice of commentator MC Miya, still going strong, the bustle of the audience, all enhanced by the building’s acoustics. If anything, he’d become more accustomed to seeing big arena fights in real life than he was seeing them broadcasted on TV.

The line-up was set. Kai knew Aichi’s deck by heart already. He’d helped him build it, piecing together parts of new and old. Running parallel to his own recollections assembled for the evaluation, it had served as a good counter-balance. It had been a long time ago now, but Kai still remembered when he’d first built a Royal Paladin deck. It had been the first deck he’d ever built. It hadn’t been the last, and hopefully this one wouldn’t be, either.

It had been no more than a tidbit Gaillard had mentioned, but Konomi’s mother had been a Royal Paladin user as well. Maybe no more than a tidbit indeed, but Kai had been unable to forget about it. He’d mentioned it to Aichi, but no more than that. They hadn’t really talked about it, for there wasn’t that much to say.

Sangou Konomi; her name had grown familiar, and it brought him anguish and hope. Anguish and hope not for himself, but for her. Kai’s emotional turmoil subsided not when he thought of her, and for a long time he had been afraid to do so. However, it brought himself to a different place. A place where the world was broader, wider; a place where he was not alone, a place where his own fears and insecurities felt insignificant. He wouldn’t call it liberating. That would be insulting. But it felt like a wake-up call. He responded to it instinctively, as if he had been waiting for it.

Maybe he’d be disappointed, maybe he’s crash and fall even harder. Kai was aware of that. He’d also realized that he didn’t care, for it didn’t matter.

All that mattered was the girl.

While Aichi waited for his cues in the lounge at the stadium, waiting for the broadcast to start, Kai waited, too. The call could come today, or tomorrow, but no later than next week. Then, they’d know. Maybe not for certain, but they’d know more. Kai wanted to be at home when it happened, he wanted to be ready for it, even if it meant he couldn’t be with Aichi today. They’d both agreed this was the best way to do it.

Aichi too, as he’d let Kai know, was exceedingly more nervous about possibly hearing word from the agency than he was about the fight. With a smile on his face, he’d expressed his concerns.

“I really don’t know how I’m supposed to concentrate.” He’d laughed. “But it helps to know that you’re taking care of it.”

When the commentator announced the arrival of the players on the field, they were running a few minutes late, and Kai was making coffee. He turned around, and met with the sharp eyes and frank, confident smile of challenger Anjou Tokoha. She was in a rush, admits a high, at the summit. Kai recognized that emotion, he had seen it in others countless times, but it was worth mentioning that Tokoha was in a league of her own. There were few fighters on the global stage who commanded the stadium the way she did. In contrast to what Aichi had hanging over him, the match-up almost didn't feel fair.

The sun was bright outside and the shine that reflected on the television screen obscured the image. The cats slept in the sun on the couch, and Kai didn’t think of closing the curtains. The background details of life eluded him, except the ones that didn’t, that stuck with him, led his thoughts astray. It was another one of those days.

Fairly predictable first few turns. Neo Nectar’s late game pressure is near unparalleled, at least in terms of numbers, and Aichi was rushing a little harder than usual to dish out the damage he’d need to close the gap. He’d learned who his opponent would be only a few days prior, and the development was according to plan. Kai had followed Tokoha’s development over the years, as she’d more than proved herself. Not everyone was cut out for the world stage, and he’d seen many others wobble and fall on their way to the top. Tokoha was different. She’d walked the same road Kai had, and she’d prevailed. In that sense, Kai felt a strong kinship with her. While Kai’s praise for Aichi knew no bounds, he made no mistake in recognizing that Anjou Tokoha was an opponent well-equipped to defeat him.

Legion brought its surprises. The audience hadn’t expected it, as evident by the fuss that had arisen. The deck was indeed something old, and something new, combined together. Together they’d weighted their options, but stubbornly they’d been unable to move on from certain ideas. Ideas such as, maybe the strategies of old weren’t obsolete. Maybe there was a way to bring back the past in a new form, a form they’d shaped together. In the end though, it had mostly been for fun. Lighthearted, playful, words that otherwise felt far away from their current lives. However, there was underlying significance in their choices, to which Kai had been mostly oblivious; as he generally was. Knowing Aichi, he’d been aware since the beginning. As two units came to occupy the vanguard circle together on the live broadcast, Kai felt a little stupid. Today, he couldn’t be there, but Aichi was by no means alone. The hidden meaning of the line-up was their little secret.

When it came to the truly interesting fights and the best of match-ups, it was hardly the outcome that mattered most. Perhaps that would work well as an allegory for something, Kai thought, but he wasn’t able to attach any greater meaning to his observation. At least not right now. If Aichi lost today, then Kai wasn’t sure what it would mean. And worse, if he won, that still held little meaning. Today, it was the fight itself that would matter. Kai preferred to refrain from thinking about it anymore than that. It would just invite absurdities into his mind. Feet ought to be firmly planted on the ground once reality called.

And, it did call.

His phone was within an arm’s reach when it buzzed, on the seventh turn, Tokoha’s first stride. Kai didn’t pick it up right away. Inhale, exhale, he collected himself. He picked up the phone.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Soaring, landing, and taking off again. That was what it felt like. One step at a time they’d traveled, and come here. Reality offered no compromises, and bad things and good things alike usually brought company. It had been a few days, a week, but it still didn’t feel real. Kai wondered if it ever would.

They had been approved. Only a few days later, they’d been able to schedule an appointment. They would get to meet her, the girl.

It had been a bit hard for Kai to gauge Aichi’s reaction. Mostly because he hadn’t seemed very surprised. Despite that, they’d been on the same wavelength that day. It had been hard to celebrate, mostly because it took time for it to sink in. Like his fears, and his worries, the realization had come and gone. Hitting him hard, suddenly, only to rush away and leave him in a haze. But now, his anxieties had been replaced by hope. It was alleviating. Kai felt, for those short moments, joyous and courageous; all by his own device.

His doubts weren’t gone. He’d realized he might have to accept that they never would be gone. It felt alright. They’d been given a chance, which was far more than he’d expected, far more than he’d ever take for granted.

The date was set a winter day on the beginning of the new year. Despite everything, they were on schedule and within the estimated time period. They wouldn’t need a renewal. As the day drew closer, reality shifted again, but at this point, it was nothing new. Their conversations had gone from theoretical to practical. It was no longer about how they should feel, or what they should think. It was about what they would say, what they would do, how they would act.

Kai had never forgotten about the empty second floor bedroom. First thing every morning after getting out of bed, he passed it on his way to the bathroom. They hadn’t forgotten, but it was still empty and now time was catching up with them. There were still so many question marks left. In fact, they had no new information, except that they knew they’d get to see her. They didn't know what sort of things she liked, or how she'd been living her life. Maybe she wanted to keep her own bed, and have only her old things. Maybe she wouldn't want to keep any of her old furniture.

“Ideally, we'd pick things out together,” Aichi had said, lost in sincere contemplation. They’d done some actual, hands-on research, and their options were overwhelmingly many. Kai agreed with Aichi, but eventually, if things went well, she would come for a visit. At that point, they needed something they could show off, something they could offer.

“We should get her a bed. And a dresser, and a desk.” They couldn’t just show off an empty room. “If she doesn’t like it we can just sell it, and replace it.”

Luckily they had enough disposable income to do that, even if it would hurt their budget a little.

“Yeah, it’s better to go all out. Either way, we have to get bed sheets, curtains... We could consider a rug, too.” Aichi sounded more than a little preoccupied. The interior design spreads of children’s rooms had felt incredibly far away from everything at first, but with a little time, I wouldn’t have to feel like that. The image of the empty, lonely-looking bedroom was fading from Kai’s mind. It was about time. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Ahead of them was another tense day with unforeseeable events. Kai had no idea how he would feel, and when that morning arrived he still had no idea quite how he was feeling. The strangest thing of all was perhaps that despite everything, he was happy. It was hard to sleep the night before, but unlike the initial agency meetings or the evaluation meetings, his deprived and overwhelmed self grasped excitement and a certain degree of optimism. They wouldn’t meet until noon, and the morning hours ran them by. They were well-prepared, but there was still that little scamper, that little rush. Aichi was smiling, and when they rolled out of the parkway, Kai was too. He thought about the girl, dreamily, and he thought, _We’re coming; we’re coming to see you._

It was a sunny day, and the traffic was light. They rolled smoothly through the city. Kai had expected for the turmoil to end at some point. As the scenario drew closer, as comprehensible as it ever had been, Kai realized it probably never would. Family was turmoil, love was turmoil, life was turmoil. Though he saw himself as fragile, in the sense that he had limited stability standing on his own two feet in the emotional turmoil of life, Kai's head was firmly attached to his shoulders. Over and over, he’d reached new levels of courage, and gained new strengths. Most importantly, he wasn’t alone. Life would always be turmoil, and it would be more so from here on, but it was okay.

Parking, finding the reception, navigating their way amidst delirium. They'd made it, somehow, all the way here, figuratively and literally. Normally, they countered one another, leveled the other out, but today they were both levitating above ground, high, on-edge, just a tad erratic. Kai let go off all of his expectations and preconceptions. He couldn’t hold on to them anymore, they were floating away to where he couldn’t reach. Kai and Aichi held hands in the lobby, both with a grip that strained their muscles, ached in their bones and dampened the blood flow to their fingers.

Homely furnished in earthy tones, with windows framed in walnut, potted mini trees and couches dressed in natural leather, the lobby seating was a far shout from they agency’s all white. One could tell that people lived here, by the way one of the corners of the rug was upturned, by the small stack of coffee cups left behind on one of the tables, by a mop that stood leaning against the doorframe on the opposite wall. The building was mostly silent, the children had been called away for lunch.

The establishment mostly acted as a relatively short-term solution. The children who lived here would stay for weeks or months before being rehoused. Legal proceedings, bureaucracy and the like was what kept them. Most commonly they were the victims of messy divorces or cases of abuse or neglect. Living relatives or one legal guardian was already in the picture. They’d been informed of the status of the situation. Konomi’s father’s relatives had during Kai and Aichi’s evaluation process declined to take on the role as legal guardians. It had been its own process, one they'd had little to no insight into. Gaillard’s connections spanned the entire incident. He had spoken to Kai before the decision had officially been made, and Kai hadn’t asked any questions about his level of involvement, his amount of influence. He hadn’t, because he feared the answer might invigorate unneeded and unreasonable emotional response. He put his trust and good faith in his old friend, and took the information at face value. Technically, it was good news. It gave them an actual chance, one that would have evaporated without question if the situation had been different. The problem had fallen straight into the lap of the Japanese authorities to solve, and they were there to offer a solution.

A solution that must not fail. The intricate bureaucracy of the adoption process was holding Konomi hostage. For alternatives to be given any chance whatsoever, her French relatives had to explicitly resign their rights to legal guardianship. While this opened up the option for her to stay in Japan, it closed the door that would ensure her a permanent solution. Thinking about it made Kai feel sick. It was so unfair. The complete lack of flexibility existed for the sake of absolute accountability. He knew that. Considering his own involvement, he knew he held no responsibility for how things had played out. The situation was what it was. He held on to his hope, his faith in the good judgment of the people who held power in this situation. The same system had failed him, but right now, he could do nothing else.

Early they’d been, deathly afraid to be late, and whilst waiting arose a brand new emotion. Kai was nervous. Not to be lost in his own thoughts, which were like a labyrinth without exit, he instead embraced the feeling of anticipation. Before the agency agents, medical professionals and the social workers he’d been overtly aware of their power over him, precariously self-conscious, either on edge or endlessly weary. When he thought about meeting the girl, he felt nothing like that. He felt humble. He forgot all about himself, his own vulnerabilities and fears faded. Instead, they would all become hers. It played out in his mind. It was a prospect, an image. Today, it would become reality.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Outdoors, the sky was clear and the air, crisp. Lunchtime passed them by. Voices heard beyond the walls, voices of children, told them as much. They sat side by side, locked by their thighs, hip and shoulder. A woman took a call from a landline by the reception in the foyer. It was impossible not to overhear the unremarkable conversation. She gave them nary a look, but carried on her own business at a steady pace. For her, it was just another day. She disappeared as she had arrived, with little regard of their presence. Another uneventful few moments passed, and Kai dared to lay his head on the headrest, Aichi’s hand still tightly gripping his own. At the end of the hallway, a door closed with a slam. Indoor shoes slipped against the parquet floor, headed their direction. It was time, and it had been for about a minute or two. The two of them snapped to attention in perfect unison, Kai lifted his head up, and Aichi rose to a standing alongside him. Front and center, they met her halfway, an aged woman dressed in a patterned blouse matching the interior and the plainest of skirts. She had the sharpness of an office worker, but the smile of an elementary school teacher. 

Greetings, although formal, were warm. The woman introduced herself as Hiakeda, one of the head coordinators. There was a certain amount of anticipation from her side as well. Kai hadn’t been sure what to expect. Aichi succeeded in doing some small talk, somehow. It seemed well received and not as painfully jarring as they’d previously experienced. Regardless, the exchange didn’t drag on too much.

Formalities ended and they were led through the doors. Kai had feared, when the moment arrived, that he’d not feel ready. He was nervous still, but he had it under control. He was as ready as he would ever be. Right now, he didn’t want to be anywhere else. Aichi had let go of his hand as they'd exchanged greetings, and as they walked side by side, Kai felt his fingertips brush his wrist, the inside of his hand, settling into a light grip. They looked at one another, and as they both smiled, Kai could swear it on his life then, that this was only the most innocuously innocent smile they’d ever shared in their lives.

A young woman greeted them beyond the next room. The cold light that fell from the window, from which you could see the playground outside, could not be drowned out by the warm light of the light bulbs in the ceiling light crown. The girl was holding her hand. It was a grip that appeared firm, but not tight. Her lips were tightly clasped, her eyebrows well pronounced and low set over her gaze, forming a defiant expression. It took no more than an instant. Kai had seen her, laid his eyes on her, and the hollow, shapeless idea of the girl had been erased and replaced. This was her. She was not a concept, or an idea. She was herself, her own person, just like he was. She had her very own vivid internal life, with her own complex set of traits, some inherited, others gained. She had her dreams, her fears, her own ability of self-reflection, and she had a worldview that was unique to her and her alone. He would have to get to know her, as he would anyone. Yet, he recognized her. Perhaps naively, he saw himself at that age. The unfiltered, instinctual reaction he felt, one that he feared to explore, as overwhelmingly sentimental as it was genuine, was that this girl was of his kind. She was his daughter, his flesh and blood.

It was overly sentimental, and inappropriate to voice, but it was his earnest and heartfelt feelings.

Collected, and wholly his own natural self, Aichi greeted her. “Hello. It’s nice to meet you,”

He’d leaned down just a bit, but not so much it felt condescending. She was seven, going on eight. It could be a sensitive matter at that age, and she was more than old enough to sense when adults talked down to her.

Kai watched her, and he smiled. Nothing he’d prepared to say at this stage, but the words fell naturally into his mouth. “Sorry to keep you waiting for so long.”

Lightly, he laid his apologies on her. Konomi raised her head to look at Kai, specifically. She was thinking.

“Konomi, say hello,” Not a demand, but a suggestion. The young lady who held Konomi’s hand had greeted them without words, smiling. This was not her moment.

“Hello,” Konomi greeted them, articulating each syllable pointedly. She’d acknowledged their presence, while also asserting a certain amount of distance between them.

Konomi had known they were coming. She’d been told, a few weeks prior, that there was a couple interested in becoming her new parents. The word combination of “new” and “parents”, presented to her in its context was nothing but absurdities. She had parents. She had her mother, and her father. They may not be with her anymore, they were in her memories, forever ingrained as a part of her, her upbringing, her personality. Her memories of her mother were unquestionably fresh. Her passing still felt like a spell that had been cast and could be broken, although she was old enough to know that wasn’t true. Her father mostly had her place in her mother’s stories, and in the old pictures, but that did not make him any less real. When her mother passed, the connection to her father had been buried alongside her. Konomi was effectively mourning both her parents.

Understanding, as in actually comprehending, seeing and feeling that tragic reality was harsh. Imagining something could only prepare you so much for reality. Expectations and reality could be magnitudes apart. Kai knew this, and he felt it, he felt it deeply, and indeed it was humbling. What he hadn’t expected, and what he never could have known, was the effect it would have on his resolve. A deep crevice had opened up inside him. It was overflowing, and it was bottomless. He could approximately guess what she was going through. Kai had too lost his parents, but he'd never had anyone try and overtake the role after their passing. Kai was well aware that there was a reasonable chance that Konomi would never see him as a father. He’d thought about it before, and he felt now more than ever that it didn’t really matter to him. He was not here to make her serve a role as he saw fit. She was not a vessel for his self fulfillment. He was here to seek his own role in her life, he was here to respond to her needs, and embrace his own capabilities as a guardian. He’d already embraced it, he was almost feeling a little impatient. Kai ought to see himself as her father, and act the part. However, how she saw him was up to her. Imposing himself, him and Aichi imposing themselves, demanding or expected her to see them a certain way, was nothing short of intrusive and damaging to her integrity.

Development would continue to be slow, and they had no choice but to keep on taking things day by day. They were still only in the starting blocks of a life-long commitment. However, these sort of thoughts were never premature.

"We've been looking forward to meeting you," Aichi treaded carefully as he spoke. Speaking to children was not always easy, but Kai felt that Aichi could master it with a little practice. As for himself, he'd have to watch and learn, practice and study.

"I'm Aichi," No formal introduction, no overt pleasantries. A genuine smile, and no more, suited the situation best.

"I'm Konomi," Konomi replied, as she'd understood she should. She looked at Kai with her dark eyes; judging, expectant.

Kai and Aichi had grown up; they'd long moved past their teenage years and their young adult lives were fading into memories. But many things remained and like a constant reminder of where things had started, they'd never changed the way they referred to one another. It had never felt strange. The fact that Aichi still referred to him the same way as he had when they were kids, when they were teens, didn't bother Kai. It stood out, and it did, because in what other context would a grown man speak of someone else they way one might speak of their oldest of friends, someone held in familial respect? Kai had over the years been forced to come to terms with the idea that him and Aichi were childhood sweethearts. It was strange how such things could play out, but fact remained, that Kai hadn't been called by his first name since he broke contact with his family.

It didn't have to be a big deal. It shouldn't have to be, and he didn't want it to be. Kai always held the people he met at an arm's distance. To an extent, it was about his own emotional liability. No formalities, no expectations.

"It's Toshiki. You can call me however you like."

Konomi looked at him, and he recognized how attentive she was. The tension that burdened her expression was concentration, in part. Kai knew she must be nervous, if not fearful. She did not respond, nor nod, but he had no doubt she was listening, no doubt she'd remember his name whether she wanted to or not.

The room’s windows invited the yard into the room, the outside playground empty. All the children were indoors. Seated in the sofa, Konomi’s feet just about reached the floor. Her cutely patterned stockings looked a bit lumpy in her indoor slippers, mini versions of what her caretakers wore. Her jersey dress appeared as comfy as could be, and while her pigtails were messy, they did their job of keeping her hair out of her face. She sat across of them, and with the coffee table a square as broad as it was long, it felt like an ocean between them.

The young lady who'd held Konomi's hand had slipped out to get them some coffee. Kai and Aichi had politely accepted. Konomi had been offered some juice, to which she'd only nodded, with little acknowledgment. When the coffee came in, Aichi gave it an initial sip, and then no more. The conversation was a little strained, even more so awkward. Konomi sat with her hands on her lap, making sure not to look at them too hard or for too long. Like Kai, she hadn't touched her drink.

“You used to go to school near Sugamo, I heard,” Aichi breached the subject carefully.

“I did.” Konomi replied curtly.

“Did you like it there?”

“...Yeah.” She sounded distracted.

“Do you miss it? We don’t live all too far from there.” It wasn’t close, but it was not a huge detour on Aichi’s route to work. Not that it really mattered.

Konomi did not respond at first. She fiddled with the hem of her dress as her dark eyes were locked on the opposite end of the room. Her body relaxed, but expression unchanging, tense. Aichi felt a little bad. He had no intention to try and lure her in with promises of some sort of normalcy, but perhaps now it seemed that way.

“I like school.” Her voice was a little deep for a girl her age. “But it’s different here. We don’t have the same books. I wanna go back before I miss too much.”

Konomi hadn’t questioned that she’d get to go back to her old school, eventually. Aichi realized the question might have seemed strange.

“So you like to study?” Aichi followed up, keeping it simple.

“...Yeah.”

“What are your favorite subjects?” 

“Math.” Konomi needed not to think to respond, but it was not an enthusiastic delivery. “And art.”

“How about language?” When it was clear she didn’t intent to elaborate, Kai tried to toss in a question of his own. Awkwardly, he realized his tone only came to match hers. However, it seemed to work, and she looked at him differently than she had before.

“It’s hard,” Her tone was hard and earnest. “My mom tried to teach me a little French. But I couldn’t learn any. She stopped after a while.”

As disdainly as Konomi said those words, to her, it was obviously not a disconnected series of events. Kai was inclined to guess Konomi felt that her mother had given up on teaching her. In reality her mother, as she approached the end of her life, most definitely hadn't wanted to spent that time frustrating her daughter with studies.

“It’s certainly difficult,” Kai said, for he genuinely thought so. He was not particularly gifted when it came to learning languages. “It’ll take time, but you can learn, as long as you want to.”

“Mom used to speak French at home sometimes. With her old friends, on the phone. She made it sound easy. But I couldn’t speak anything like her.”

“Well. It takes time.” Kai wanted to try and connect the conversation a little to himself. “Even when I was living in Paris, it took me time to learn.”

Konomi’s reaction was hard to read, but Kai saw her eyes pass over him. She was contemplative, as if searching for his motives.

“Math and art are also quite difficult,” Aichi added. He wanted to try and lead it into a compliment.

“Math is easy.” Konomi crossed her arms. “I was already using the 4th grader’s book at my school.”

“Really? That’s impressive. You must be really good at math.”

Arms still crossed, Konomi turned her head away. “I used to play Vanguard with mom since I was little. That’s why.”

Of course. The conversation had yet again come back to Konomi’s late mother. However, Aichi did not regret his line of questioning.

“Do you still like to play?”

She hesitated to answer. “... Not really.”

“You like to watch the other kids play sometimes, don’t you?”

Head still turned away, Konomi did not acknowledge the comment made by Hiakeda.

She still needed time. Kai had been there, too. It saddened him to think that something she used to enjoy, and something she shared with her mother had effectively been sealed away in order to spare herself the grief. However, it was unavoidable. It was human. Kai watched her, and she was distant to him. He didn’t doubt that she’d eventually be able to do all the things she used to enjoy. He wished he could tell her, but decided that for now, he would have to hold on to that hope in her place.

“We could play sometime. If you want to.” 

Maybe it was too soon to speak of such a thing. It was a suggestion, and Kai tried to relay it casually. He didn’t want to pressure her, but he also wanted her to know that the option existed. Konomi did not respond, but Kai hadn’t expected her to. She listened. That was enough.

Konomi turned her head, slowly, but her eyes landed not on Kai. They passed him, and instead she stared at Aichi to his right. 

“I saw you on TV.”

Aichi had just touched the ear of his cup when Konomi spoke. Her words were hard, barely accusatory.

 _“O-oh?_ You did?” He smiled, uncertain of her intention.

“Yeah,” her voice quietened. “You played that exhibition match against Anjou Tokoha a few weeks ago.”

 _“Yes, I--”_ Aichi became bashful. “You were watching that?”

“Yeah.” She sounded more than certain of herself. “We all watched it. In the common room.”

“I see,” Aichi wasn’t quite sure what to say. He saw Kai smile at him fondly, and it didn’t help. “I... I hope you enjoyed watching,”

Konomi was a cute girl, even with her eyes low set and with a surly expression. Her stare could be a little unnerving, but what adult could admit to being unnerved by a little girl such as her? She’d been concentrated this entire time, and despite how reserved she was, she also showed a fair amount of character. With the talk of her mother she’d been visibly distracted, but now, Kai guessed she was curious. Despite her frown, and despite her defiant eyes, he could tell.

“My mom always used Royal Paladins. But you used some units I’ve never seen before.”

“Oh, are you curious?”

She was a little perplexed by Aichi’s sudden, straightforward question. Kai wondered what else she’d expected. Perhaps nothing at all.

“I’ve watched Anjou play before. My mom always kept up with the Euro league. She’s very good.”

Konomi hadn’t directly responded to the question, but Aichi understood. She glanced at Kai, and he hated to wonder if she knew him. She was young, too young to remember either him or Aichi from their early conquests. In turn, even Kai's presence hadn’t been quite what it used to be in the last few years. Konomi pressed her lips together and said nothing more. Stupidly, Kai realized that there was no way she didn’t know. Her mother and Gaillard had been aquaintained. Her mother, Sangou Sayami, had been a prolific Vanguard fighter for the short few years she’d been active, and despite that they’d so far only heard tidbits about her from her daughter, it was clear where her interests and focus had been. How could he, a Japanese fighter on an international level ever slip past her mother's radar?

“She is,” Kai could only agree.

“And you played evenly against her. It's been a long time since I saw a Royal Paladin player play like that.” 

“Thank you,” Aichi sounded a little taken back. “Um, since you asked about the cards... You could have a look at them, if you want. I brought the deck with me.”

They’d rushed over a number of topics, the conversation advancing a bit faster than expected. Aichi saw his chance, and hoped he wasn’t wrong to latch onto it. Konomi had her mask, but it slipped and shattered at Aichi’s suggestion. She was a little bewildered, clearly interested.

“If it’s alright with you,” Aichi added, and as he did, Konomi’s head twisted to observe Hiakeda’s reaction.

“Oh, it’s fine,” She reassured, and Kai reached into his bag. He got up, and he held the shiny, brand-new deck box in one hand. With one, two steps he was within Konomi’s reach. She didn’t reach out for him, and with her mask back on, she stared at him.

“Here you go,” Kai smiled, and it wasn’t so hard. He held out his hand, and she snatched the box from him. As soon as she held it, she stared at it, ignoring Kai. When he sat back down, she still hadn’t taken any of the cards out.

She handled them carefully, and in the moment that passed the room was silent. Konomi appeared absorbed, yet with the very same defiant stare, now directed at the deck, which she was sifting through. Aichi kneaded his hands in his lap.

"You could keep it if you'd like. That way you can look at the cards later," He proposed it like it was an afterthought. It wasn't.

"... If that's alright?"

Slowly, Konomi closed the fan of cards in her hands. "Oh. It should be... alright." Hiakeda didn't sound fully sure. Aichi was thankful for her lenience. Konomi had said nothing, and her face if anything seemed to tip further down. Kai saw her freeze in the moment, stuck on a thought. He wondered how she felt. The gift must feel strange to receive, and perhaps she didn't know what to say or how to feel. However, he hoped that perhaps later, it would give her something to look forward to.

"Konomi, why don't you put the cards away for now?" Hiakeda asked her asked kindly. "You can play with them later."

No one expected her to say thank you. Without too much hesitation, she put the cards away. She held the box as if she didn't quite know what to do with it, before she set it down next to her on the seat.

Konomi only had cards that had been left her by her mother. They were all put away in her adult size suitcase; she'd taken them out once or twice, but always put them back away. Indeed, she liked to watch the other children play. She was drawn to them with what felt like a strange force of habit. She'd watch, and maybe for a moment, she'd forget. But only for a moment. Konomi had never thought about the possibility that she might acquire cards that would become only her own. Still, she thought little of anything, but she had her curiosity. The movements of the cards on the field had made an impression on her. When she'd watched her mother play, she'd long to recreate the things she saw. Earnest like it had always been, but weak like a thread of light, she felt that feeling again. She hadn't thought she'd ever feel something like that again.

She was used to the adult conversations. Long before her mother died, she'd always been around to hear the adults speak their language, to her, over her, about matters she understood better than they usually realized. She was used to it, but she was not used to being the subject matter of a meet quite like this. She felt awkward. She didn't quite understand. She knew she couldn't go home anymore, but she also knew she couldn't stay here. She lived each day in a daze, or in the past. She knew the spell would never be broken, but she didn't know that it wouldn't always have to be so unbearable.

The conversation never delved too deeply into matters. Konomi didn't need to say more than a few words at a time. She grew distracted. Without thinking, she fiddled with the lid of the deckbox she had placed next to her. Konomi didn't quite realize, as was the intention, but the adults took the hint. It was time to let her go. Like they'd said hello to her, Kai and Aichi said goodbye; not too casually, not too formally. For a brief moment, she watched them go down the hall through the glass of the double doors. The coffee cups were being collected, but her name was not called until she saw them reach the end of the corridor, just as she saw them both turn to look at her one last time.

She'd watched Kai and Aichi as they spoke of themselves, listened, and she knew she would think about them later. Kai was right in his assumption. She would remember their faces and their names. Uncomfortably, curiously, sporadically she would think of them, and never too deeply. She didn't think they could ever be her family. She had more important things to worry about, anyhow.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The blinds opened, and then closed. It was a Sunday afternoon and the light shed from between the gaps was blueish, as colored by the heavy clouds. Plastic wrap and cardboard had been shed and discarded, fairly orderly. Emi had come by again, mostly offering some moral support. She had her head in the game, and Kai felt more productive when she was around. But now she had left, but the second floor bedroom was empty no longer. His head was rather, however. Empty, or perhaps, overfilled, overloaded. He opened and closed the blinds again. He grew frustrated. The light in the room was so gloomy. No thanks to the weather, but that wasn’t what bothered him. There’d be rainy days, cloudy days. A lamp-shade, still covered in plastic, sat on the floor by the door. He’d been planning to install it, but he’d gotten stuck. The ceiling bulb was exposed. It needed changing, too.

Aichi caught him where he stood. Kai had heard him coming down the hallway. Aichi knew without asking, that something was wrong. It wasn’t so hard to tell. Stepping inside threshold, Aichi entered the room with a squeal from the floorboards. With his presence alone, Kai felt him tap into his thoughtless state, making a call to reinstate some form of order.

“If it bothers you that much, we could wait a bit longer.” His voice was so light, so unlike anything Kai was seeing or feeling in that moment. “If it’s about the color, you could always ask her next time.”

They’d decided they’d paint the room. They hadn’t decided what color.

To ask, was so simple. Kai had thought of it, but it was only when Aichi suggested it, that it actually felt reasonable.

“I suppose I could,” Kai had dropped his arm down to his side. “If she comes to visit.”

He heard Aichi approach him from behind. Right next to him, by the window, he stopped. Raising his arm, he tugged the string and pulled up the blinds. They whirred and clicked into place. It was still cloudy outside.

Kai didn’t seem fully convinced. Aichi knew it wasn’t always easy to pull him up out of a dip, but at the same time, he knew that Kai always underestimated his own ability to lift his own spirits. He might forget, but he’d always had it in him.

“What’s the matter?”

Silence, which not unusual, and thus Aichi gave him time.

“It’s not... coming together,” In time, Kai responded. They stood side by side by the window, and Kai was watching the outdoors as Aichi was watching him.

“So?” Aichi touched his arm. “It doesn’t have to come together just yet. And if there’s something she doens’t like, we can just change it.”

He’d aimed to question what Kai was taking for granted.

“I know it’s... a lot. We don’t know how things are gonna turn out.”

Kai knew that, which was why he worried. Aichi knew that, too. Perhaps the sweeping melancholy had passed, and while they’d become hopeful, and gained more than a burst of energy, perhaps the new highs had also brought some new lows. 

“It’ll be easier, once we can talk to her more.”

Aichi knew that he was, comparatively, ways ahead. At least right now, he was. Aichi knew Kai wanted to talk to her, and get to know her, but there was something making it hard for him to believe he could.

“I don’t know what to say to her. I don’t know how to ask her.”

“It’s fine if you don’t know just yet.” Aichi knew he had to be honest. “I’m not sure either.”

The light would remain cold outdoors. Without the ceiling lamp, the room sure did feel gloomy, Aichi thought. Kai’s uncertainties; Aichi felt them too. A pause, a transition, into a new mind set.

“You know, even if you can’t talk to her now,” As carefully as he ever could, Aichi smiled. “Can't you try to imagine it?”

It was a memory, distant in time, but never far away. 

Aichi heard Kai breathe. It wore off, slowly. Kai remembered, the courage brought by optimism, brought by the ability visualize a reality just a little bit different from how it seemed. The threads were weaved thinly. Might as well tear it all up and start over.

There were some things that he never wanted to let go off. Incidentally, they were also things he wanted to pass on. If he wanted to give her at least a little strength, he had to embrace it himself first. Maybe he wasn’t there just yet. But if he just imagined that he could, he knew he could get there.

Kai didn’t respond. He didn’t have to.

He smiled, just a little.

“Do you want to get something to eat?”

“Sure,” Aichi perked up. They could need a little break. They'd been hard at work since morning. “After that, do you think we could set up the bookcase?”

“Yeah,” Kai felt like he could say that, without having to feel so strange.

“Let’s do that.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

It had only been a week. When the car rolled up into the driveway, it was yet again with a different set of expectations. No decisions were made after one meeting. Konomi met with them again, with the same company as last. Consistency served the process well.

When they greeted her, Konomi looked at Kai and Aichi with barefaced concern. She’d known they’d be back, yet she'd still somehow doubted it. She wasn’t surprised, but she was awkward before their presence. She seemed a little irritable and when she sat down on the couch, she swung her legs back and forth.

The conversation was yet again easy on her, but with some impatient, short and curt answers, her patience seemed to be wearing thin.

“It’s starting to get a little warmer outside. Do you like playing outside?”

There was no point in trying to engage too much with a child who was unwilling, at least on this level, in this situation.

“It’s okay,” The answer to Aichi’s question didn’t really offer any openings.

“Maybe you prefer playing indoors,” Aichi could relate with his own childhood experiences. “That’s what I always did.”

Although, in his case, there were other circumstances that’d kept him indoors. Nothing he wanted to subject to Konomi, at least since he suspected she might not have had much choice either.

“All the children here have the opportunity to play outside if they wish,” The statement wasn’t colored in any which way, but Aichi couldn’t help but fear he’d called the institution into question.

“Of course,” He responded, quickly. Kai saw Konomi pick up on the nuance of the conversation. It interested him how attentive she was, and when her head turned, she saw him watching her, too. Kai smiled, and while she did not return the gesture, Konomi did not look away.

“It’s not huge but we, have a yard back home... and it’s pretty close to the park.” Aichi was trying to make some conversation. “It’s good... for kids to have the chance to be outside.”

They weren’t being tested anymore. But the rehearsed words came out regardless. They were not being tested, not by any authority, at least. Only perhaps by the most important influencer in this situation. Konomi was listening, still hard to read.

“We have a dog,” Kai thought he might add, “So there’s that too.”

Konomi looked at them, thinking.

“Do you like dogs?” Kai asked. It would be unfortunate if she disliked dogs, or if she’d had some bad experiences with them in the past.

“...I prefer cats,” She responded, honestly. “But I don’t hate dogs.”

Kai smiled. “We have cats, too.”

The comment didn’t go unnoticed. Konomi stared at him, vaguely intrigued.

“I always wanted a cat.” She said, finally. “But mom was too sick.”

“I always wanted a cat growing up, too.” Kai connected her story to his own. Such simple desires had been scattered by the wind after his parents passed away so suddenly. “So now that I finally can, I decided I should have at least a few.”

A spark. A little curve of her lips. For the first time since they’d met her, Konomi smiled.

“How many cats do you have?” It was the first question she’d asked them.

“There’s three of them,” Kai recounted. “And they’re all pretty lazy.”

The conversation didn’t stretch much farther than that, but it was fine. You could only speak of fleeting everyday things for so long, and where they'd left off, they'd just need to pick up next time.

Soon, they were about to get ready to leave. Time was up. That was when Konomi had set down the deck box on the table. 

“I’m giving this back to you.”

Aichi was stumped. Kai tried to read the situation. There had to be something to this.

“Why?” He asked simply. A little crude, perhaps, but his voice was quiet and resonated with sincerity. “It was a gift.”

“I’m not using it.” Konomi’s voice was firm. “So there’s no point in me having it.”

Aichi was ready to speak up. However, he did not. He observed. He knew Kai could deal with this, if given a chance.

“That’s not true.” Kai’s voice was quiet still. “Even if--”

“Cards are meant to be used.” Konomi retaliated. “That’s what... That’s what I was always told.”

Konomi, with her hand on the box, pushed it towards Kai on the table. “They shouldn’t just sit around. I’m not using them.”

Konomi glanced at Aichi, and saw how saddened he was. It was hard for him to hide. Sternly, she looked away, as did he. Kai, with a slight slant to his brow, swept the box from the table. Konomi stared at him, and as he took the cards into his hand, he saw her lips twitch. Why he’d taken them out, she wasn’t sure. Kai’s expression had grown stern. Konomi knew she had done something she probably shouldn’t have done, but she was ready to stand her ground.

Taking his eyes off her face, Kai went over the cards. Forerunner, four heal triggers, four stand triggers, four critical triggers, four draw triggers; and then, four perfect guards. The order was significant. Lowering the cards, and raising his head, Kai now looked at Konomi quizzically.

The deck had been shuffled when Kai had given it to her.

Slipping the deck back in the box, he set it back down on the table in front of her.

“Keep the deck,” He said, and it was not an order as much as it was a suggestion.

“Why?” Konomi raised her voice. “I’m not using it.”

“Maybe not,” When their eyes met, Konomi had slipped up. She was sad, as he’d suspected, and thus Kai adjusted his tone. “But you might use it someday.”

The silence that followed dragged on. Hiakeda was silent, too. Aichi was seeped in uncertainty.

Konomi slipped away, into herself, and she slumped back in her seat on the couch. Her hands twisted and turned in her lap, clasped together in a loose grip.

“It’s special, isn’t it.” She’d known all along. Her voice mirrored her certainty. “So there’s no point in me having it, if I’m not gonna use it.”

“It’s special.” Kai admitted. “That doesn’t mean you can't have it,”

“Isn’t it a waste?” Her question sounded genuine. 

“It’s not a waste.” Kai nor Aichi considered their efforts wasted. Even if nothing came out of them, they would never be wasted. “Besides, you’ve been looking at the deck, haven’t you.”

“I looked at it.” Konomi was still facing her lap. “I didn’t use it.”

Kai reached for the deck again, and Konomi looked up as he did. Swiping it off the tabletop, he got up. “The cards interested you,” The deck was sorted, so it wasn’t hard to find what he was looking for, “So you looked at them.”

“Yeah?” Konomi was defiant once more. _“So?”_

The G zone, separated from the main deck, Kai held it in his hand. He turned the top card over. Frustration, borderline anger, colored her face as Konomi saw the card.

“I’ve never seen that card before,” She said, forcefully.

“Right,” Kai was calm. “You haven’t. So you were curious.”

He held it out to her, and she swiped it out of his hand.

Aspiring Seeker, Bond Saver Dragon. Humanoid at a glance, almost fearsomely dragonic at any closer observation. Lightly armored, slender body gracefully posed atop a cliff, her powerful jaws were parted, roaring at the parting clouds. Konomi stared at the card, visibly conflicted.

“It’s fine if you can’t use it. You can keep it. Look at it. And if you do feel like using it, you can.”

“I don’t know,” She looked so sad, and the confusion was seeping into her voice.

“It’s okay,” Kai kept his distance, but spoke to her calmly. “You don’t have to make your mind up.”

“Mom always said cards existed to be used. Even when she was sick, and in the hospital, she’d play with me every time I visited.”

Kai knew what Konomi had to realize, that her mother’s words and actions not necessarily connected the way she thought they did. Now was not quite the time for Kai to impose his ideas about Konomi’s mothers intentions, but there were still things he could say to comfort her.

“It’s true that cards exist to be used. But they’re not impatient. They can wait. Until you make your mind up.”

Konomi looked uncertain. Inhaling with a new sense of direction, Aichi decided to speak.

“Konomi, do you want to hear a story?” She looked at him, and she was carefully expectant.

“When I was about your age, I met Kai for the first time.” It was easy to smile when he told the story. “He gave me a card then. It was just on a whim, because he wanted to cheer me up. I wanted to build a deck, so I could play with him. But I never could.”

Konomi had turned her head away.

“It wasn’t until some seven, eight years later I finally got the chance." Aichi knew he had to choose his words with care. It didn't feel so hard though, not when Kai had set things up so well. "And, you know, I thought about it all the time. I kept thinking maybe someday I’d get the chance. I built a deck, but for so long I didn’t use it. But the cards waited for me. They gave me strength, even though I couldn’t use them quite how they were meant to be used.”

Kai set the remaining cards back on the table. He saw that Konomi was thinking, her eyes now locked on the unit in her hands. 

"Things aren’t always so straight and narrow. There are many different paths to the future." There were certain things that Kai could say confidently.

“I know it’s hard to think about right now,” Kai kneeled down to her height. “But you can get to where you want to be, eventually.”

She didn’t look at him, but he knew she listened. “It might seem unbelievable. But it's not impossible. Not if you can imagine it.”

Konomi’s hands fell into her lap, still holding the card. She looked as if she was about to cry.

“Until then, I can hold on to the deck for you. If you want.”

Kai watched her for a moment, and she collected herself a little. He reached for the cards on the table, and that was when she spoke.

 _“I’ll keep them.”_ Konomi dried a few stray tears that had fallen. _“I’ll keep them.”_

“Right,” Kai smiled at her. “Of course.”

“And when you feel ready, she’ll be there. Waiting.”

Frozen in time, Bond Saver Dragon was eternally roaring at the sky, parting the clouds. She had time.

 

 

 

 

 

 

It was an early spring day, the air fresh with the smell of sprouting grass and green leaves. Temperate, but warm days awaited.

They watched the car park in the driveway. When the doors opened, Konomi got out of the car by herself and slammed the heavy door, pushing with what looked like all her might. Stomach flat on the carpet and paws laid out neatly in front of her, Gloria waited excitedly. She’d heard the car, and she’d curiously followed the preparations that morning. She knew someone was coming. She’d been told to stay where she was, and she obediently stayed put. It was hard to resist when she heard the doorbell ring, but Aichi hushed her. When she heard voices in the hallway, she did not yip or bark, but her tail wagged non-stop from side to side.

Konomi’s greetings were still reserved. She kept her distance, and no-one expected her to do anything else. She’d naturally brought company. Behind her, as she hesitantly stepped into the living room, Hiakeda watched her. When Konomi and Gloria, who was still on the living room carpet, saw each other, they were locked in an impasse. Konomi had frozen in place. Gloria wagged her tail and panted happily.

“You can put your hand out to her and say hello,” Aichi suggested. He’d made sure to stay close. “I can go with you if you’d like.”

“It’s fine,” Konomi said, contrary to her reaction. Perhaps she’d caught herself. “Here, doggy,”

Having greeted each other, it was a bit easier to let go and relax. Konomi had let her sniff her hand, and had even petted her head a bit, so now Gloria was satisfied and the worst of her curiosity had been dealt with. This tiny human had nothing to hide from her.

It was around noon. Kai had made coffee and prepared some sweets and sandwiches.

“I’m not hungry,” Konomi had said when she saw the serving plates being placed on the table.

“She... just had lunch.” Hiakeda explained.

“That’s fine.” Kai wasn’t about to make anything out of it. Not wanting to speak over her, he looked at Konomi. “You don’t have to eat anything if you don’t want to.”

Konomi had a bag with her. It looked like a school bag and it was a little worn, perhaps meant for a child a few years her junior. She’d had it with her when she arrived, and she’d yet to let go of it. She had it right next to her where she sat on the couch, under her arm.

Hiakeda had some coffee. Konomi was still watching the surroundings. Kai had yet to get to know her to the extent where he could confidently make more than assumptions, but he watched her inspect her surroundings, as if she had something to see through.

Despite everything, Konomi always appeared at least a little demanding. She always scrutinized, questioned. She was not apathetic, and while she undoubtedly had been changed by her mother’s passing, her words and actions echoed of convictions of the past. That gave Kai hope. Moving on is such a broad concept. It can mean letting go, but there are some things that you cannot let go of. It was impossible to know without asking if Konomi had thought in those terms, or if anyone had talked to her about it. Maybe he was projecting, maybe he was being overly sentimental once more. But in her, Kai saw such a strong and resilient girl. Kai saw himself in her, and he realized, he had been strong, too. He had been strong in ways he’d never known. In need if understanding and support nonetheless, but as an adult he was able to recognize that needing those things did not make you weak.

Konomi was quieter again, but it was to be expected. She had a lot to take in. The cats had held a low profile, as they usually did around noon. Bushy, the long-haired house cat named after his thick and bushy tail, was the most curious of the three and eventually made his appearance. They all had such simple, banal names, proof that they were Kai’s cats. He had named them himself, although better names had been in the making, there’s such a thing as over-thinking. In the end, the tentative names had stuck. Konomi saw the cat, but made no move. She didn’t need to, however. Bushy was keen to inspect humans he didn’t know. Soon, he was on the sofa Konomi and Hiakeda shared, chirping.

“Sorry, he’s a bit...” Aichi couldn’t get the words out in time. Konomi had already been assaulted by gentle headbutts from an inquiring cat.

“It’s fine,” Konomi replied quietly. Bushy the cat received the pets he’d come demanding. Carefully, she touched him. It was a nice distraction. He trudged on, over her lap and demanded attention from Hiakeda as well. Eventually, he settled at the headrest. Konomi leaned to her side to watch him.

“Cats make good companions,” Kai made the statement with clarity in his voice. “They are reserved, but affectionate.”

“A good match for you, Kai,” Aichi said with a smile on his face. That was all it took to make Kai a little flustered.

“They’re cute, too,” He continued, “Don’t you think so, Konomi?”

She nodded, without turning. The conversations were held lightly, with little commitment. They had more time today.

“Gloria needs to have her afternoon walk later. Would like you like to come with us and look at the neighborhood a little?” Aichi’s question was ignored for a short moment.

“Sure,” Konomi replied, to his surprise. “We could.”

She wasn’t quite as tense, even if she was nonetheless preoccupied, her mind a little hazy. Aichi and Kai both seemed to light up. Konomi pretended not to notice.

With her gaze fixated ahead of her, Konomi pulled her bag into her lap. “Could I ask something first?”

 _“O-of course,”_ Aichi was thrown off. Konomi had yet to request anything of them. Reaching her hand into her bag, she seemed to struggle just a little, before she finally pulled it out. She set the box down on the table firmly.

“You said,” She looked at Kai, and her eyes were sharper than before. “That she’d wait for me.”

Kai hadn’t thought they’d be having this conversation so soon. Yet, he knew what to say. “I did.”

“Well. I think she’s tired of waiting.”

Aichi was a little concerned. Kai wasn’t about to start assuming things, not at this point. “It hasn’t been very long. I don’t think she’s that impatient. Do you?”

Conflicted, Konomi still held her hand on the box. She wasn’t letting go. “You said we could play if I wanted to. Well. I want to try.”

Perhaps it was not the Seekers who were impatient. They’d already found what they were looking for.

“If you want to, we could.”

Konomi looked surprised. Almost as if she’d expected Kai to question her. Perhaps she’d wanted someone to voice her own doubts. She wasn’t sure herself. She was curious of the deck. She wanted to use it. She thought of it often. Maybe it didn’t have to mean anything beyond that.

It was still painful. It had been many months. Konomo hadn’t considered that she could go back to doing the things she loved. Now that she knew, now that she’d imagined it, she felt the cards call for her, and she grew impatient. Maybe a bit too impatient.

“We don’t have to,” Kai’s voice had grown silent. “But we could try.”

Konomi picked the box pack up, and looked at it. “We could... play a little.”

Kai smiled. He got up, wasting no more time. “Alright then.”

Aichi made sure to move the plates and cups out of the way. The table cloth had to do for a make-shift field.

Konomi appeared quite focused, but her fidgeting fingers also hinted at nervosity, and perhaps, excitement. She was still watchful of her surroundings, and a nervous tick revealed itself. Aichi saw her eyes go back and forth, so he rose, retreated to the kitchen for a bit, to give the two of them some privacy.

“Ma’am, would you mind coming with me upstairs?” He asked with a smile, and Hiakeda wasn’t difficult to convince.

 

 

 

 

 

 

With five cards on hand, Kai counted Konomi’s eight. Opening the seventh turn, it was to be Kai’s first stride. It was Kai’s four damage versus Konomi’s two; Konomi had hit a heal while on grade 2, and a critical on the previous turn, tipping what otherwise would have been a three versus three damage situation in her favor. With them both already having reached Generation Break 1 and 2 respectively, there was one face-up Gancelot Peace Saver in Konomi’s G zone and two Advance Guard Dragon in Kai’s. Against Tokoha, Gancelot hadn’t been Aichi’s first stride. Going up against Kagero required different counter-measures compared to Neo Nectar. Konomi was not emulating what she’d seen. She was independently using the deck.

He hadn’t thought of it up until then, perhaps stupidly, but was she expecting him to play an all out game against her? The cost had been paid, and while Kai had not seriously considered holding back, he found reassurance in Konomi’s steady gaze. She was watching him expectantly. Oh, what was it Ibuki always used to say?

The Destiny, now obscured by The Ace. “Stride skill,” Kai counter blasted one, “I retire Gildas,”

Begrudgingly, Konomi moved her left column grade 2 to the drop zone. The Blaster Blade in the right column could not be touched, as of the resist granted by the Gancelot in the G zone. It was either Gildas or File, who laid rested in the back row behind the vanguard. They could both call a unit from the deck in the next turn, but Gildas could also intercept. In that way, the choice hadn’t been too hard.

“I reveal seven cards,” From the top of the deck, he revealed the cards on the field, spanning his right column to hers. A sentinel. Two grade 2s. A grade 1. The fifth card was Dragonic Overlord, The Legend. With the sixth and seventh cards both being triggers, Kai added The Legend to his hand and shuffled the deck. Glancing up, he saw Konomi looking at him, focused.

“Undeux’s skill. I add another The Legend to my hand,” With Undeux in the soul, and two out of four cards in his damage zone face down, Kai shuffled the deck once more.

“You sure need a lot of those,” It barely passed as a snide remark. 

Kai genuinely thought it was a little funny, and smiled. “You saw through me there.” As obvious as it was, he’d never had an opponent mention it.

“I call Lizard General, Conroe,” Conroe appears behind the vanguard, but not for long. “Conroe’s act. He retires, and my vanguard gains a skill.”

Absorbed, Konomi does not inquire. When Kai looks at her, she speaks. “You get to counter charge two. When it attacks.”

She tells him, just to make sure he knows that she knows. “Yes, that’s correct.”

He would have told her. Looks like he didn’t need to. 

“I call Glow Heater Dragon, it gets plus four thousand power,” Two thousand for each card in Konomi’s damage zone. “I call High Flame,” With only one Overlord in the drop zone, its first skill did not activate. With the two units lined up, Kai’s left column now hit exactly 21 thousand, just enough to get over the threshold. However, it would get higher.

“The Ace’s skill,” Counter blasting two, and hitting Generation Break 3 with a persona flip, “By paying the cost, it gains a skill-”

“It’ll stand.” Konomi’s fan of cards was covering her mouth, and she peered up behind them. “By discarding one of those grade threes you picked up before.”

“Yes,” Perhaps he was being a bit predictable? The idea of it humored him. “It’ll stand. And it gets minus one drive.”

Going into the battle phase, Kai had three cards left in his hand, and an open right column. “The Ace attacks the vanguard. The Ace’s gained skill,” Kai counter charged two.

Thing Saver was still alone on the vanguard circle. Konomi did not hesitate. “No guard.”

“Drive check,” As Kai announced it, Konomi leaned forward on the sofa, almost tipping over on the edge.

The first check, a sentinel; Protect Orb Dragon. Konomi glared at it. Second check, “Critical trigger. Power and critical to The Ace,”

This was less of a surprising development to Konomi. “Two damage,” She said, clearly. “Damage check,”

The first card turned over; Grynngal Seeker. The second card, “Draw trigger!” Clearly excited, Konomi now stretched to draw a card. “I give the power to Thing Saver.”

The vanguard being at 16 thousand was always a little uncomfortable. “Glow Heater’s skill. It gains an additional four thousand power,”

On a ten thousand base, and with a seven thousand boost, this made for 25 thousand power. It wasn’t enough, at least not yet, and with Konomi’s damage trigger Glow Heater’s initial power increase had been made just as insignificant. 

“The Ace’s skill, I discard a card with Overlord in its name from my hand,” One copy of The Legend was now in the drop zone. “And The Ace stands, and gains five thousand power. The Ace attacks the vanguard,”

Konomi huffed. She’d wanted him to attack with the rear guard first, but with the damage trigger and more trigger checks to come, she knew it was the right choice.

“Perfect Guard,” Discarding a grade 1 from her hand, Konomi called Defending Seeker, Shiron to the guardian circle.

Aichi’s build had been tweaked to specifically counter a Neo Nectar bloom deck. Legion decks liked quintet walls, but they were redundant when the opponents rear guard columns could reach numbers up to a hundred thousand or more. Against Kagero, well, perfect guards also had their uses. The multiple drive checks made them a safer choice.

“Drive check,” Kai knew it would arguably come down to this. Konomi had only discarded two cards so far. For the turn to not be wasted, he’d need a decent turn out here. Up until now, Konomi without a doubt had been favored by the trigger checks. 

“First check,” Konomi was leaning forward again.

Demonic Dragon Mage, Rakshasa.

“Critical trigger. Power and critical to Glow Heater.” Konomi hummed.

“Second check,” Konomi held her breath.

Gattling Claw Dragon.

“Draw trigger,” Drawing a card, Kai smiled. “Power to Glow Heater.”

Konomi threw herself back in the seat. She still held her fan of cards tightly, and Kai saw a glimpse of a grin behind their edges.

“Glow Heater attacks,” Now at 35 thousand, with an extra critical, it was a lot more threatening than before.

“Intercept,” Blaster Blade was moved to the guardian circle. He'd be back next turn; Kai knew as much. “And, guard, with, um-”

The critical trigger Konomi had previously checked, Hallowed Breath Dragon, alongside a grade one, Tranquil Unicorn joined Blaster Blade. With 36 shield, Kai’s awkwardly numbered rear guard attack did not hit.

The units from the guardian circle went to the drop, and The Ace went to the G zone.

“My turn,” Konomi announced. With seven cards in Kai’s hand and four cards in her own, Konomi again pushed herself to the edge of her seat to draw from her deck.

Kai had seen her do it before. He’d hesitated to ask, but now it was hard not to. “... Do you want me to move the table a bit closer to you?”

The thought hadn’t seemed to have struck her. Konomi snapped her head up to look at him. “... Sure.”

He got up, and lifting the table straight up as little as needed, he moved it so the field was all within her reach.

“How’s that?”

“Better.” Konomi said contently. She wouldn’t need to lean all over herself to see his cards anymore.

Skipping the ride phase, and the stride phase, Konomi went straight to her main phase. Kai anticipated what would come. 

“I call Gildas,”

Oh, Kai thought. She’d had another. Other than File, her rear guard circles had been empty. Rebuilding the field wouldn’t be too hard like this. 

“Thing Saver’s skill!” Konomi announced, and from her drop she revealed; two criticals, one draw, one perfect guard and put them on top of her deck. Throwing down her hand on the table, she grabbed the deck with both hands. “I seek Blaster Blade Seeker!”

Blaster Blade joined Thing Saver on the vanguard circle. “Legion!” Impatiently, Konomi was already reaching for her deck again.

“I activate File’s skill, I get to call a Blaster Blade to a rearguard circle,” She struggled a little bit to get the card out when she was so impatient with her little hands.

“Blaster Blade’s skill,” She counter blasted one, “I retire Glow Heater,” 

Kai put the card in the drop zone. He had expected as much when he’d called it out there.

“Gildas skill,” Upon achieving Legion, Konomi would be able to call two units. “I call Generation Seeker, Menevia.”

Reaching for her deck once more, Kai’s grew all the more intrigued. Placing Menevia behind the vanguard pair, Kai saw the gears turn in Konomi’s head.

Generation Seeker, Menevia, had appeared on the field. The card depicted a mage, a young woman, with a light but practical armor only barely visible under a heavy cloak, all in the Royal Paladin colors of white and blue. She wore a serious expression, wielding a tall sturdy staff, adorned with shining blue gemstones. Worn around her head of purple hair was a simple wreath of gold, partially obscured by her hood.

“I... activate Menevia’s skill.” Konomi discarded one card from her hand, and moved Menevia to the soul. “I can choose one face down G unit in my G zone and turn it face up.”

Reaching for the G zone, Konomi flipped through it. Surely she knew what cards that were in there. Yet, it was as if she wanted to make sure before she made her announcement.

“I choose Aspiring Seeker, Bond Saver Dragon,” She revealed the card, her hand steady, before she placed it face up on top of Gancelot.

“If my vanguards are Legion, they gain two skills until the end of turn.” Konomi didn’t need to read the card. She’d learned the skill by heart. “First: They get plus one drive, and plus 15 thousand power.”

“Second; I can discard one card in my hand, to retire one of my opponents units.” Konomi pointed to Kai’s sole remaining rearguard, High Flame, and he moved it to the drop zone. She wasn’t about to let him use the skill to stride next turn.

“Then, I can call a unit with Seeker in its name that’s the same grade as the retired unit,” Konomi already had the deck in her hands. “I call Tranquil Unicorn. I will activate the skill in a bit...”

It was on queue for now. “And then, if I have three or more rearguards than my opponent, I can counter charge one.”

Three cards were now turned face-up in the damage zone. Kai looked at Gildas. His skill was not limited to once per turn.

“Now. Tranquil Unicorn. I soul blast one,” Menevia was out of the soul, and into the drop. “And give Blaster Blade an extra five thousand power. Oh, and,” Konomi almost caught herself. “I call Grynngal.”

Konomi’s line-up, Blaster Blade alone in the right column, Gildas and Tranquil Unicorn on the left. Grynngal behind the vanguard was something that Kai took note off. He’d helped Aichi put the deck together. He knew he’d have to let one attack from the vanguard hit this turn, so this was a bad set-up for him.

“Gildas attacks the vanguard with boost from Tranquil Unicorn,”

It was only 14 thousand. Kai’s draw trigger came to use. “Guard,”

“I attack the vanguard, and with the boost, and Thing Saver’s skill,” Konomi was counting, albeit quickly. “43 thousand,”

Kai was already at five damage. They were both highly familiar with the deck. It was a balanced build with rainbow triggers, four of every kind. Konomi had already checked two criticals, so Kai knew that made for two accounted for in the deck at most.

“... No guard.”

Konomi showed Kai her first true smirk. Kai smiled, too. They both knew it was a gamble.

_“Triple drive,”_

Konomi turned over the cards quickly, slapping them against the table top. Grade 2, Full Bloom Seeker, Cerdic. Grade 1, Defending Seeker, Chiron. Konomi clenched her teeth, and Kai heard her inhale sharply. She turned over the final card.

Draw trigger. Seeker, Platina Rider. Konomi exhaled. A little disappointed, but not utterly so.

She drew a card. “Power to Blaster Blade,” He was now at 19 thousand.

Kai damage checked. Konomi was focused to see what he’d get. “No trigger,” He revealed Nehalem to her, before putting him in the damage zone.

Konomi collected the cards she’d checked in her hand. “Grynngal’s skill, I counter charge one.” All of Konomi’s damage was now turned face up. She'd effectively gotten back the costs she'd spent. “Thing Saver’s skill, I discard two cards,”

Konomi threw Cerdic and Platina Rider in the drop. “Soul blast three, and counter blast two... And I can superior ride a Thing Saver from the deck!”

Blaster Blade Seeker was folded into the soul. With both hands, Konomi stood the vanguard. “And again,” Blaster Blade reappeared from the soul, called back to the vanguard circle. “Legion!”

It had been years now since Kai had used the deck himself. He never thought he’d get the chance to revisit it like this. It was fascinating to watch, and it brought back many memories.

“Gildas’ skill activates again,” Counter blasting one, Konomi reached for the deck yet again. “I call Cherin!”

Gildas retired, as Cherin appeared on the same circle. “Cherin’s skill,” Konomi turned over the last card in her damage zone, “He and another unit gets plus 4 thousand. I choose Blaster Blade,”

Standing in the left column front row, Blaster Blade was now at 23 thousand. Konomi had gained an extra attack while also pushing her left column past yet another power threshold.

“I attack with Cherin,”

Another attack that required only five thousand extra shield. Kai called Rakhasha to the Guardian circle. “Guard,”

“I attack with Blaster Blade,” This surprised Kai a little. With Konomi’s trigger set-up, it would be ideal to have one rested and one standing rearguard when drive checking.

Clearly, she was going for something a lot more risky. Konomi saw Kai’s hand. He had five cards left, and one of them was a perfect guard. One was a grade three, and one a critical trigger. Kai was aware as well, she had been keeping pretty careful track of his hand.

Still, there were two cards that she did not know.

“Generation guard,” The announcement made Konomi tense up a little. “Defeat Flare Dragon.”

Kai counter blasted one. “All your back row rearguards are retired.”

Konomi squinted at him. Perhaps she could tell what he was planning; but regardless, losing field hurt. She complied, and put both Grynngal and Tranquil Unicorn in the drop zone. Defeat Flare Dragon’s shield stayed at 15 thousand, but it was enough.

Quickly shaking it off, Konomi swiftly reached for her vanguard circle. “I attack with the vanguard,”

Without boost it was still 37 thousand. Kai didn’t hesitate. “Generation guard,”

Konomi clenched her fist. “Divine Dragon Knight, Abd Salam-”

“He gets plus 10 thousand shield for each of my open rearguard circles.” Konomi spoke before Kai could, teeth clenched.

Turning over one card in his damage zone, Kai had only counter blast left. “...Yes. That’s-”

“56 thousand.” She replied quickly. With the two circles Kai had opened with the previous skill, the attack was now a no pass. Still, Konomi held her head high.

_“Drive check!”_

First check. Seeker, Hallowed Breath Dragon. “Critical trigger, power and critical to Blaster Blade.”

Second check. Seeker, Hallowed Breath Dragon. Pressing her lips together, Konomi froze. “Critical trigger... power and critical to Blaster Blade.”

Third check. Konomi readily reached for the deck a last time. “Seeker, Bouquet Paros! Stand Trigger! Power to Blaster Blade, and stand!”

Now, at 38 thousand, Blaster Blade was standing once more in the left row. Konomi and Kai both knew the power or critical didn’t matter.

“Blaster Blade attacks!”

“Perfect guard,” Kai discarded his second critical trigger. Protect Orb Dragon appeared on the guardian circle, and, with that, Konomi’s turn was over. They'd both known the perfect guard would come, but Konomi had been very intent on forcing Kai to use it.

Kai had one single card left in his hand, and they both knew what it was. He’d barely realized he’d been holding his breath.

“... You can handle that deck well despite never having used it before.”

“I went over it. A few times.” She didn’t appear to take it badly. Konomi barely took it as anything at all. She was focused on her hand. “Besides, I saw Aichi use it on TV.”

“That makes sense.” He smiled. 

She'd never said his name so casually before.

“Anyway, my turn’s over.”

With only The Legend left on hand, Kai reached to draw. Smiling as he saw what he'd gotten, he spoke. “I’ll show you, that you’re not the only one who can triple drive without striding.”

Telling words, considering he only had one counter blast left. With two grade threes on hand, Kai had his options, but some were indeed more compelling than others.

“Oh, I know,” Konomi smiled, too, a haughty smile Kai had yet to see. “I’ve seen you on TV, too.”

It wasn’t recognition he had yearned or longed for, but Kai felt satisfaction in the fact that she’d told him. 

Riding The legend, Kai felt like a childlike rush he hadn’t felt in a very long time. In spring, in the park, with his friends, playing, exploring, learning, every fight a brand new scenario with brand new unforeseen outcomes. Back then, it was like an allegory for the unexplored future, braced thoughtlessly, tirelessly. It had all been so close to him all this time, those feelings, those memories.

The pieces fell into place. Things aren’t always so straight and narrow. There are many different paths to the future. Just like the G Unit turning over by the rearguard's skill, there was always another way. Kai’s own words echoed true, delivering an answer he’d already known, but not been able to accept. Everything would be okay, eventually, and he was living, doing what he could, enjoying each moment. He was capable of resonating with his surroundings and with other people, and the proof was right here, right in front of him.

Konomi had seen him, perhaps even studied him, and leaning on the table in a moment of absorbed anticipation she was watching him. Doubts had haunted Kai through and through. There was no real way to fully escape them. As he’d watched Konomi he'd felt like he’d been able to read her decently. There’d been times she’d seem distracted, times she’d seem sad, but right now, he was certain she was enjoying herself. She was not hiding it, her haughty smile nor her upbeat body language.

She was immersed in something she loved. Right now, even if only for a few moments, she was carefree. Perhaps for the first time since her mother passed, Kai had been able to grant her a few moments of peace. It was so small, but also overwhelmingly huge.

It was so simple, and Kai knew it was fleeting, so he knew he had to make the most of it. It was the only thing he could give her right now, but luckily it was the thing she needed most.

It was a noteworthy accomplishment, but only the first step on a very long journey.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Konomi was putting the deck back together. Like Kai had suspected, she’d run out of steam. Still, she seemed more at home than she had previously. Her heels were kicking against the sofa, hinting at some pent-up energy.

Aichi helped her, seated next to her. He’d only seen the last two turns, but it’d been more than enough.

“You played really well,” He hoped it didn’t sound like too much of a hollow compliment. He meant it, but it was hard to get creative without being overbearing. “I’m impressed!”

“I lost, though,” Konomi said, somewhat glumly.

“That doesn’t mean you didn’t play well!” Aichi reassured her before anyone else could.

“I know.” Konomi responded confidently. Aichi laughed.

Climbing the stairs was less of an affair than expected. Konomi had pretty readily agreed to go upstairs. Aichi remained in the kitchen for a spell, to not make it too much of an ordeal. He heard the light, mostly one-sided conversations without having to strain his ears. 

Konomi had stopped by the open door in front of Kai and Aichi’s bedroom but had quickly lost interest and kept walking. Fair, Kai thought. There wasn’t much of interest in there.

The second bedroom was just down the hall. She’d been told about it. It wasn’t news. Konomi appeared a little defiant once more, but she trudged on. Kai opened the door for her. Hiakeda only watched them, not interfering or saying anything.

The lamp shade made a difference, but it was a little cloudy again on this day. The bed was made and lined up against the wall, adorned with a pair of decorative pillows in light shades. The linens were colored in fresh, peachy colors. White had seemed a little plain, almost clinical in the otherwise white room. There was a striped carpet, and a small desk. Curtains were drawn half-way. Nothing was too simple, or too obnoxious.

Upon entering, Konomi didn’t appear to have much of an opinion. That much was natural. Kai let go off the door handle and let the door slowly swing all the way open. Hiakeda was just outside. Kai heard Aichi’s footsteps coming up the stairs.

He leaned down, crouching by her, their heads leveled.

“We were thinking of maybe painting the walls a different color,” Kai spoke to her quietly. It was almost a whisper. Konomi hummed in response.

Without looking at her, and with reasonable distance between them, Kai spoke generally, etching an open-ended narrative. “What color do you think would look good?”

The neighborhood was very silent this time of day. People were at work, children would only in another hour or so arrive home from school.

"I like blue." Konomi matched Kai's silent voice.

"Blue?" Kai asked curiously. "Deep blue?"

"No," A simple rejection of his idea. "More like, the ocean. Or the sky."

Blue. Melancholia. Freedom. Peace. Colors has many associations. Now, he would associate it with her. The floorboards creaked just outside the room. Aichi was just in time to overhear them.

"I think blue would look lovely," The clarity in his voice brought a different nuance to their careful conversation. "It’ll make the room more inviting, don't you think?"

Konomi did not respond, approaching the window and peering outside. It was indeed still a little cloudy, but the temperatures outside were pleasant. The patches of grass in front of the houses that lined the roads were a rich, deep green. Kai had gotten up to follow her, parting the curtains so she could see outside better.

She contemplates the view for a moment, and then turns to him sharply. “We were supposed to walk the dog.”

She speaks it like a reminder. Konomi is keeping track of the agenda. The dog has to be walked.

“Yeah,” Kai finds her attitude endearing. “Better not forget about that.”

It was about time. Gloria was on her best behavior. The walk was comfortingly uneventful. Setting one foot before the other, Konomi walked quite heartily. At the park, she wanted to go on the swing set. She swung herself high, and to stop, she dug her feet deep into the sand. Not a lot of people were around, so they let Gloria lose for a bit to run at her own pace. Konomi watched Aichi play with her. Nothing really indicated she was eager to join, but she watched.

Kai saw her slip away, into herself. He knew it would come and go. She said nothing, but stuck by his side. Slowly, they walked home. Konomi had her hands stuffed in her pockets. As they approached the house, she started to straggle. When they got back, it would be time for her to leave.

Kai stood by the gate. Aichi had let the dog back in, and helped Konomi make sure she hadn’t forgotten anything. Hiakeda was getting in the car. The front door slammed, closed by the wind. Aichi had missed to catch it.

Quiet, and wearing the same defiant expression as when they’d first met, Konomi looked at Kai. She held onto the strap on her bag, standing in the small yard, she almost appeared to wait. The silence felt natural, and Kai was content with what had happened today. He wished to say goodbye properly of course, but he wanted it to be on her terms.

The sky was white, overcast with clouds.

“Have a safe trip,” Aichi said, now by Kai’s side.

“I'll come back.” Konomi replied curtly. “I’ll beat you next time.”

"Yeah," Kai smiled.

Konomi squeezed the strap on her bag tighter.

“We can have a rematch whenever you’d like.”

Konomi didn’t smile. Rather, she looked sad.

It wasn’t that she didn’t want to leave. It was a bit more complicated than that. She’d had quite fun today, and she was a little overwhelmed.

“Let’s go,” She said to Hiakeda. She was tired.

When the car rolled out on the road, Kai and Aichi were still standing by the gate. Aichi waved, smiling. Kai had his hand on his shoulder, watching the car go.

Konomi turned her head to watch them until she could no longer.

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Konomi (コノミ), written in katakana to match all other given names in the franchise, can mean 好み (favorite), 木の実 (tree's crop, "fruit"), この身 (oneself) or 好美 (beautiful fondness). 
> 
> Sangou (残郷), kanji 残 meaning "lost" or "remaining", 郷 meaning "village" or "hometown", making for "hometown left behind" or "remaining hometown". Initially wanted the second kanji (gou) to be 業 (karma) but since 残業 means "overtime" (as in working overtime), I went with 郷 which incidentally is one of my favorite kanji. Sangou, written 三号, can also mean "third", just as Konomi is the third member of the family-to-be.
> 
> It's a rather strange name, frankly, but I thought I'd be satisfied with it as long as it felt similar to Aichi's name, seeing as his name is also quite strange. Aichi, at least using the prefectural spelling (愛知), means "wisdom of love". I've always loved it, I wanted something within the same vein.
> 
> The paragraph that describes how Kai and Aichi refer to each other is awkward since the story's in English and doesn't transcribe Japanese suffixes, because that in turn too, would be awkward. But please rest assured that even in this setting Kai is still "Kai-kun".
> 
> I'd also like to apologize to any Kagero players reading this. I'm so sorry! I don't know how Kagero works. Big thanks to several vanguarddeckbuilder.com users, I took the liberty of using a few recipes as inspiration. 
> 
> The original cards' proper texts can be seen [here](https://cardfightvanguardfanon.wikia.com/wiki/User_blog:Huppappapa/Seeker_Support_for_Favorite_ch.5). I didn't want to clog up this space with them.
> 
> Next chapter will be the last. Thanks again to everyone reading and supporting this story. It means a lot to me.


	6. Chapter 6

      

      

      

The doorbell rang six PM sharp. Misaki was eerily punctual, arriving in her leather jacket, leather boots, and a six pack of beer in her oversized handbag. She usually brought beer, rather than wine or sake, even though it was mostly her and Miwa drinking it.

The house was pleasantly filled with the scents of food. Some of them a little clashing; the sweet spice, black pepper and desert cooking all at once had that effect. On kitchen duty as usual, Kai had still been able to tear himself away to greet Misaki by the door.

It was summer. The windows in the living room were open just a crack. Aichi brought Misaki into the living room, were Miwa was already occupying one of the double couches.

“Oh, hey!” Throwing his arms out, he greeter her.

“...I see you’ve made yourself at home.” Misaki’s comment referred to how Miwa had comfortably sunk down into the sofa, one foot up on the seat, and with the TV remote in hand.

“I’d invite you to do the same,” He gestured to the seat next to him.

Aichi laughed. “It’ll be a while, so please do sit down for a bit.”

The coffee table was occupied. Cards laid in neat rows across its surface; a deck dissembled to be put back together.

“Hello,” Misaki greeted Konomi kindly. “Are you working on something new?”

“Not really,” Konomi replied without looking up.

“Just trying to sharpen that edge, huh?” Miwa commented. He had tried to make conversation, but was yet to succeed.

Konomi raised her head, slowly, and stared at him, her mouth a thin line. Intimidated, Miwa said no more.

Misaki sat down next to Konomi, and cast a more careful glance on the cards on the table.

“...A resist build?”

“Sort of.” Konomi replied, a little sullen. It wasn’t really coming together. 

“Would you like something to drink, Misaki?” Aichi asked.

“Oh, sure. I did bring my own drinks, didn’t I?” She laughed. “Would you like some too, Miwa?”

“Oh, absolutely,”

“Konomi, would you like something to drink as well?”

“Juice,” She bounced up in her seat just a bit. “Please.”

“Of course,”

Quick to rise from her seat, Misaki trailed Aichi into the kitchen. “Better be careful,” Misaki broke off one beer can for herself, and one for Miwa. “Or he’ll root himself here, and you’ll never get rid off him.”

Knowing she was talking about Miwa, Aichi laughed.

“When that time comes, he can always sleep in the study. We have space.” Kai spoke quietly, in mockery of a serious tone.

“Hey, don’t be rude.” In the combined kitchen and dining room, Miwa was very well within earshot. “I contribute? I watch the cats, and the dog, and the potted plants around here all the time.”

He did, in fact, house sit quite a bit. Although it had been a pretty long time ago now, he was used to being stationed at Kai and Aichi’s house for days or even weeks on occasion. They both had fairly busy lives.

“I’m basically family,” Miwa said with a fair amount of conviction, only to turn and see Kai and Aichi both looking at him with endearing pity.

“In that case, you might as well start paying rent.” Kai had a knack for occasionally making jokes that also passed as hurtful comments.

Choking on his drink, Miwa retaliated. “I help out!”

"There, don't worry," Aichi was smiling a bit too widely. “We always appreciate your help.”

“Besides, we’ll continue needing more of it, I’m sure.” Aichi added, and as he did, Miwa turned his head around to look at Konomi, still seated across of him.

“You hear that, boss?” Miwa addressed Misaki. “I’m getting promoted! About time, don’t you think?”

He heard Misaki sigh in response. “Well, you have to work for it, you know.” 

Konomi hadn’t quite been listening. The adults had their social time together, and on top of being mostly disinterested in their unfunny banter, she was a little absorbed. Having picked up on the turn of the conversation, she raised her head. At the other end of her stare, Miwa felt a chill. He was clearly being judged. He’d need to gain her approval before officially going from being a house sitter to a babysitter. Luckily for Miwa, it would likely be long time before he’d have to step into that role. Kai and Aichi had altered their lives enough to keep that from happening.

From a neat mess, organized with meaning only she knew, Konomi’s deck came back together. She shuffled it, once, twice, and after looking at the top five cards, she shuffled it a few more times, clearly dissatisfied. The ambience, the voices of the grown-ups, didn’t seem to bother her, however, when she heard a knife against a cutting board, her head snapped up and she leaped off the couch.

Grabbing at the back of his shirt, small hands in a tight grip, Kai felt Konomi pull at him. She forced her head in under his arm, and she witnessed what she’d suspected.

“Put the apples in last!” She berated him, “Not yet!”

Kai made no attempt to push her away, but let the knife’s blade rest against the cutting board.

“They’ll get soggy!”

“I’m not going to put them in yet,” He told her calmly, and turning, she was swept along. She had placed her little feet atop his. “I’m just preparing them.”

She looked at him as if to see through his bluff.

“I’ll make it the way you like it. I promise.”

Konomi wouldn't be having the same food as the adults this evening. She had her own menu to choose from. She was still so young, and was a bit selective with what she liked. Things that were unfamiliar took a while to introduce. She’d eat Kai’s fried rice, his omelette and his curry, and was slowly branching out to other dishes. Things that she considered too foreign, green vegetables and “adult foods” were still a no-go. In that sense, she was like most children her age.

Kai wasn’t used to there being so many demands, so many conditions. However, he didn’t let that hold him back. Not at all. He always enjoyed a challenge. Aichi had always happily eaten all the things he’d cooked for him. In contrast, the feedback he was now receiving was interesting to adjust to.

Sliding off him, Konomi stood and watched him, making sure he didn’t do anything she wouldn’t allow. The adults would be having steak, with sautéed vegetables, and Konomi grew a tad curious as she spectated.

When the doorbell rang a third time that evening, Aichi got up from his seat, and Miwa and Misaki paused their conversation. When the door opened, the hall was suddenly a little crowded. Hearing and recognizing voices, Konomi at first hesitated, turning her head in their direction. Just as Miwa too, was getting out of his seat, Konomi zipped past him.

“Sorry we’re late,” It was some 15 minutes past six.

“Oh, don’t worry!” With no excuses given, Aichi didn’t ask.

Like Misaki before him, Ibuki had brought a gift. “It’s not much but,” The patterned wrapping was telling a story on its own, the label reading Hokkaido-style butter biscuits.

Having heard he’d returned from a conference in Sapporo just two days prior, Aichi happily accepted. “Why, thank you!”

Having appeared from the behind the wall, Konomi had stopped abruptly, with her socks sliding her towards on the floor. She looked at Ibuki, and then past him, and squeezed herself in between, and then past, him and Aichi.

“Chrono,” Feeling Konomi’s hands pull and tug hard at his shirt, Chrono had only just put his jacket away.

“You’re here.” She said, stating the obvious, affirming the state of affairs.

“Yeah,” He smiled, and she was already pulling him along. “It’s good to see y-”

Not settling for his shirt, she grabbed him by the arm. _“Come on,”_ She persisted.

Chrono hadn’t greeted Aichi yet properly, but took his chances, turning his head as Konomi dragged him along, “Hello, it’s uh, good to be here,”

Aichi didn’t stop them. “Oh, please make yourself at home,” He knew Chrono had little say in the matter.

Unlike Chrono, Ibuki got to take his time to take his jacket and shoes off. “She seems to be in high spirits,” His insight wasn’t what it could be. The months had gone them by, but Ibuki had done what he could to keep track of his friends.

“Oh,” Aichi responded. “She’s been looking forward to today.”

“Yeah, I...”

On the couch on the living room, Konomi now had Chrono next to her, and it was with a serious look on her face that she spoke to him. She still held onto his sleeve, as if he’d try to get away if she didn’t.

“...I suspected as much.”

Week by week, little by little, things had come around. Back and forth, as visits had steadily grown more frequent, the arrangements had started feeling more and more natural. Konomi had never truly stopped being a little hesitant. So when the decision had been made, that she would indeed move, that Kai and Aichi’s house would be her new home, she had welcomed it most warily. It’s hard to think of the future, and to Konomi each day was still uncertain. It was still hard to articulate, but she carried still doubts and fears in her heart. Which was why, it was encouraging, heartening, to see her when she appeared at ease. In an attempt to spoil her, distract her from her everyday life, Aichi had taken her to the different Vanguard Association locations whenever he’d had an excuse. The bustling events might’ve been too much for her to begin with, but with his connections Aichi could allow her to meet with his friends and colleagues in many different contexts. It gave her something to look forward to after school. It also gave her a context outside of the house, Kai and Aichi had both agreed that they wanted her to know that she was never alone, that there would be many adults around her who would happily listen to her, happily give her the time of day.

She’d met Chrono at the Dragon Empire branch office a few times, and seen him around a bit in general. The Vanguard Association, as Chrono himself had put it, had enough gravitational power to suck you in and keep you there forever, one way or another; that is, if you ever allowed yourself to get involved in the first place. Being in the same situation, Aichi knew what he meant, and he meant in the best of ways; their cause was compelling, and while the work often back-breaking, it was engaging and the work environment was inclusive and friendly. Chrono could understand why Tokoha had fled all the way to the European continent, submerged herself in the competitive scene as much as she could, everything to get as far away from her brother’s job and the Association's temptations while still being able to do what she loved. She’d lived it, grown up into it, and understandably there comes a point where you have to set your foot down. For Chrono it wasn’t so easy. He’d applied, reluctantly, after his first round of university application results came back less than ideal. In his reasoning, ironically enforced by Tokoha specifically nonetheless, it was better than wasting away at home under a fortress of books. He’d worked there for a year; a second chance was all it’d taken. Now in school since a few years, he was still far from free. Naturally it was hard to let go of something you’d been so involved with ever since you were a kid, but in Chrono’s case, there was more to it than that. He enjoyed it too much, and he was way too appreciated in his role to completely let it go. Simply put, he was too popular among the children at the local branch office. Konomi could attest to that.

You could say she’d taken a shine to him. As Konomi herself saw it though, it was more than Chrono was easy to deal with, he understood her and was easily subjected to her needs. In reality, the two definitions of their relationship went hand in hand. Aichi saw it as yet another reminder how small the world was, and how similar people appeared to attract one another in the most inexplicable ways. The fact that he’d naturally run into Chrono at campus more often than not didn’t exactly help.

Now next to her on the couch, Konomi was showing off her new build to Chrono in a hushed voice. He was listening, secretly a little bewildered by her. She was letting him into something, that was for sure.

“You’ve been replaced before you even had a chance,” Misaki commented, not too loudly, and Miwa sighed. Certainly he was still in the game. Right?

“She’s a bit of a... precarious child.” Ibuki hadn’t had much of any proper chance to get to know her, but he’d noticed as much.

“She seems to be doing better though,” Miwa thought as much, watching her now. 

“Well,” Aichi hesitated. Konomi as she was right now was not her usual self. “I suppose so.”

Regardless, when she first moved here, she never would have been capable of being quite so confrontational. Circumstances mattered, and the truth was, Aichi indeed had reason to believe Konomi had been looking forward to today. They had always taken great care in letting her know well beforehand before having people over, and it had rarely been anyone other than Miwa or Emi, and it usually been for a limited time. Kai had held his promise to their old friends, and they’d planned ahead of time for things to come together.

“Hello, Kai.” 

“Hey. How are you?”

By the stove, all while not planning to interfere, Ibuki had greeted kai. Theirs was always a quite mellow exchange.

“I’m well.” Ibuki replied with barely a sigh. With Kai, the pressure was off. He could be himself. “How about you?”

"We're doing quite good." It was easy to forget how things used to be once you had started to fall back into the comforting and comprehensible everyday struggles. "We're keeping ourselves busy."

"I'm assuming it'll be a while before you're playing any big games again," Ibuki was right to assume.

"Probably. We'll see." Kai hadn't thought about it too much. "Maybe in another year or two."

"I trust you not to stagnate." It was just jest. As if it really mattered in the big picture of things, as if Kai wouldn't find his edge even if he ever managed to lose it.

"Oh," Kai had a different picture of things. "She wouldn't let me."

Ibuki wasn't aware of the order of things, but he was about to be. For now, Kai's comment made him smile.

The comforting simplicity of their conversation felt like a breather. Ibuki hadn’t been asked by anyone why he and Chrono had been running late, and it was fine, for most likely they already knew. Work was always a lot, between the Vanguard Associations many lines of order and their tight budget plans and their horizontally built hierarchy, there were many things that needed to click. They were under no pressure to maximize profits; they were not a corporation. Rather, they were working towards something much more valuable, something much harder to acquire. The tax breaks were nice, but it hardly got them anywhere when what they always lacked the most was time. It felt merciful to arrive here, a home other than his own, and still feel at peace. It was a good distraction and as soon as he’d arrived, Ibuki had become quite relaxed. He had, in fact, until just about now. As his conversation with Kai slowly died out, a natural and foreseeable event, nothing wrong with it- Ibuki started feeling slightly unnerved. He was being observed.

He didn’t dare to turn his head, not at first, but all it took was a glance to confirm it. Konomi was not subtle, and she wasn’t intending to be, either. Chrono had his eyes intentionally adverted, but his grin was just as telling.

Acknowledging them, decidedly not wanting to be quite this unnerved by a child, Ibuki turned. Without hesitation, Konomi got up from the couch, and she walked up to him with steady, hasty steps, glaring at him.

Disturbed, Ibuki was caught off guard by her approach. Oh, he was so bad at dealing with children. There was a reason most of his career working for the Vanguard Association had him seated behind a desk.

Roughly half his height, she stared him down, and he stared back, unnerved.

“Fight me.” She demanded.

Ibuki opened his mouth to respond, but realized that it hadn’t been a question. Hearing Chrono snicker at his reaction did not make things easier.

“Dinner will be ready soon, so you know,” Kai commented.

“That’s fine,” Konomi said confidently, grabbing Ibuki firmly by the arm. “Come on.”

      

      

      

      

      

      

Seated, Ibuki shuffled his deck under Konomi’s steady gaze. She had set certain goals for herself, and she believed to have the tools to get where she wanted. She’d had her eyes on him for a while, the elusive man Aichi worked with, that Kai had grown up with, that Chrono would speak of. She’d heard of him yes, but had little chance to meet him, and now that she had the chance she would test him, and more. Defeating Ibuki was no simple feat, but that was the point in itself. Her partner in crime, Chrono, could naturally sympathize with her endeavors. He was ready to enable her in any way he could.

Ibuki couldn’t help but feel a little betrayed by this. What had he done to deserve to be singled out? He didn’t quite have the intuition to sense that Konomi was mostly just curious of him, and expressing it in her own way.

Five cards folded face down on the table on Konomi’s side of the field, she was already ready to go.

“Are you really strong?” She asked, as Ibuki was drawing his cards. Perturbed, he failed to respond.

“Oh, he’s,” Chrono pretended to second guessed himself, “Pretty strong, I’d say.”

“Aichi and Toshiki both said you were. But I’ve never seen you play or anything.” Konomi’s tone was a little too harsh, Ibuki thought. She didn’t need to say it like that.

“Well,” As sad as it was, as regrettable as it was, in reality if you work a full time job, plus overtime, it can be hard to find time to engage in your hobbies. This could be frustrating, especially when your job revolves around said hobby in every single way conceivable except you participating in it. Regardless, Ibuki wasn’t about to let himself be underestimated. “I’d say I’m... decent.”

      

      

      

Sixth turn, riding into grade 3, the game’s first stride had gone to Ibuki. With eight cards on hand, and only two damage, Konomi impatiently anticipated what awaited beyond Ibuki’s generation break. She was in the lead with two versus three damage, and his hand was less than hers too, at seven cards.

“I stride Amnesty Messiah,” With the declaration, Chrono turned his head in his hands. It was an old card. Still good, but a somewhat peculiar choice. He’d been watching the development carefully up until now, and while the fight had been relatively unremarkable so far, he thought this a little strange.

Konomi had less asked him for advice, and more appeared to want him as moral support. She didn’t want to be told what to do, and was too proud to outright ask for help, but she’d approached him anyhow. For Chrono, it was easy enough to comprehend. Right now, he knew better than to let her in on what he was thinking. She wouldn’t want that. Watching Ibuki, he saw Chrono watch him. There was still a clear strain on his face, and Chrono thought it was funny. It had been a while since he’d last seen Ibuki out of his element like this.

With Chrono’s smile not making him any less self-conscious, Ibuki announced Alter Ego Neo Messiah’s stride skill. “I call Metallia,” Ibuki’s empty right row was empty no more. 

“And I lock Aurion and-” He looked at Konomi’s side of the field, Cerdic to the left and Gildas to the right. “Gildas.”

Konomi visibly gritted her teeth as she turned Gildas over. Chrono breathed a barely audible sigh. They way she emoted was endearing to him, and the frustration of the lock he knew well himself.

“Metallia’s skill. Plus three thousand for every card locked or unlocked,” Konomi made sure to note. Metallia’s nine thousand was now 15, even without boost.

“I call Lady Fencer of Matter Transmission. She gains two thousand until end of turn,” Ibuki’s left row was now full. Dunamis Messiah had awaited her in the back row since a previous turn.

“I call Sacrifice Messiah,” As the circle behind Metallia filled up, Ibuki’s eyes only flickered across Konomi’s face. He hadn’t given up on trying to read her. Far from.

A full field across of her, Konomi could only assume she was about to be hit with an all-out offense. Ibuki had been very restrictive with calling so far, fair with a deck that relied so heavily on the generation break.

With his elbow up on the headrest, Chrono was relatively successful at keeping up a poker face. He’d made sense of things.

“Lady Fencer attacks with boost from Dunamis. Lady Fencer’s skill,” Counter blasting one, soul charging one, “She gains five thousand, and at the end of battle, she will lock herself.”

23 thousand, Konomi thought. Looking at Metallia, she sensed unrest. “I guard,” A critical trigger and a grade 1, Grynngal appeared on the guardian circle.

Ibuki turned Lady Fencer face down. “Plus three thousand to Metallia,” He announced, “Dunamis skill. Soul blast one. After boosting, it locks itself to unlock another unit, and give another unit plus four thousand.”

Turning over Dunamis, Ibuki reached yet again for Lady Fencer. “Lady Fencer unlocks, and gains four thousand. Plus three thousand to Metallia,”

Holding her fan of cards tightly, Konomi was watching the cards.

“Sacrifice’s skill.” Locking Sacrifice, Ibuki reached for the damage zone. “When another unit is locked, I can counter charge one, and give another unit plus three thousand. Plus three thousand to Lady Fencer, plus three thousand to Metallia.”

Lady Fencer was standing again, and her first skill was active even when unlocking. Without her booster, she was still going to attack for another 23 thousand. At least, Konomi thought, if Ibuki choose to activate her second skill again.

“Lady Fencer attacks,” Ibuki reached for the damage zone, yet again turning over the same copy of Arrester Messiah as he had when he’d activated the skill the first time. “Plus five thousand, and she will lock herself again at the end of battle.”

“Guard,” Still with both Metallia and an approaching vanguard attack in mind, Konomi made the choice to guard, calling a stand trigger to the guardian circle. Silently, Chrono cheered her on. This turn was not going to be easy. “Intercept,” With Cerdic’s sacrifice, the attack did not hit.

Konomi was still only at two damage. Chrono thought it was noteworthy that she was guarding both first two attacks, but there was yet a drive check to come. Konomi had not fought extensively towards any Link Joker decks in the past, but she knew more attacks awaited with the vanguard's skill.

Ibuki turned over Lady Fencer yet again. “Plus three thousand to Metallia.”

Four cards on Ibuki’s side of the field were now locked. This was exactly what he wanted.

“Amnesty attacks,” And with a second counter blast, “I can unlock any number of units,”

Turning all locked four units on his side of the field face up once more, Ibuki was back to where he’d been at the beginning of the turn. “And since I unlocked three or more, my vanguard gets plus one critical.”

Konomi huffed. She didn’t like that one bit by the looks of it, but in truth, she was pumped up. Ibuki eased up just a little. “And, that’s plus 12 thousand to Metallia.”

“Aurion’s skill. When unlocked she goes in the soul,” Ibuki drew a card. “I can draw one, and give five thousand to one unit. Plus five to Lady Fencer.”

Lady Fencer had just unlocked, and she was already powering up. 

Troubling.

Konomi looked at her hand. She had only so many options.

“Perfect Guard,” Discarding one card, an extra grade 3, she called Shiron to the guardian circle.

“Very well,” Ibuki barely smiled. This would be it. “Drive check,”

“First check,” Alter Ego Neo Messiah.

So far so good. Konomi wasn’t about to expect he wouldn’t get a trigger.

“Second check,” Blink Messiah. “Critical trigger.”

Ibuki wasn’t hasty. “I give the critical to Metallia,” 

Of course,

Konomi, thought. “And the power to Lady Fencer.”

“Third check,” Blink Messiah. “...Critical Trigger.”

Chrono knew Ibuki ran eight critical triggers at the very least. In that sense, it wasn’t surprising, but this was still a bad outcome.

“I give the critical and power to Lady Fencer,” Now 22 on her own, Konomi saw Lady Fencer posing an even bigger threat than she’d originally thought.

She realized she’d been thrown off. Metallia’s steady power boosts had perhaps distracted her from Lady Fencer, who, when paired with Sacrifice and Dunamis was a cheap restander who effortlessly hit a higher power threshold. Perhaps it was already too late, but Konomi was learning.

The outcome of the drive check had put her in a worse place than she’d already been in, but regardless of that, Konomi could already foresee that the events of Ibuki’s battle phase would repeat themselves.

He still had one counter blast left. With Sacrifice unlocked again, that was all he needed to make Lady Fencer attack two more times.

“Lady Fencer attacks with boost from Dunamis.” The extra critical and the extra ten thousand, made it a high cost attack to both take and guard.

Lady Fencer had one weakness though, and that was that when she locked herself, she lost her initial power and critical buffs. Looking at her hand, Konomi still had hope.

“No guard.”

A damage trigger or two, well, wouldn’t that be nice?

“Dinner’s almost ready,” Kai’s voice cut clear and sharp through Konomi’s concentration, and her crisp, clear visage of the flow of the game.

Her head snapped to the side to glare at him. Kai took it in stride.

“We’re, uh, almost done here, I believe,” Chrono said in her place. “This turn shouldn’t be much longer.”

Kai tore himself away to tend his steak, it had to be cut while hot. The kitchen was calling. 

"Damage check," Konomi's voice held a harsh edge. Turning over the first card, the frustration was evident on her face. Seeker, Thing Saver Dragon was put in the damage zone. Holding her breath, she turned over the second card.

Generation Seeker, Menevia joined her comrades in the damage zone. No damage trigger, but things weren't over just yet. Turning over his last damage, Ibuki activated Lady Fencer's skill a third time that turn. Locking, counter blasting, soul charging, then Dunamis; soul blasting, locking, unlocking, then Sacrifice; locking, counter charging. Costs paid, costs replenished, Lady Fencer restanding, and on top of that, another plus 12 thousand power for Metallia. Ibuki had done it all over again.

The units had synergy, that much was true, and Konomi felt frustrated as well as a little humbled. However, above all that, she felt intrigued. What else could the deck pull off? Amnesty Messiah, her sharp, intimidating form against a vibrant, rastered background as she rose above the horizon, her shadow cast across the planet which revered her name. It wasn't quite what she had expected, but just like the unit's synergy, the image came to her effortlessly.

"Lady Fencer attacks," Ibuki's voice meshed with her vision. His last damage was turned over for the last time. Lady Fencer had lost her double trigger power boost, but just like before, her own skill combined with that of Dunamis and Sacrifice still put her at 23 thousand.

It was easily guardable, but at four damage and with an extra critical on Metallia and three cards left on hand, Konomi had little to lose.

"No guard."

This was her last chance.

She had started the turn at two damage and she was about to hit five. It had to be frustrating, Ibuki thought, but Konomi reached steadily to turn over her fifth damage.

Placing Shiron in the damage zone, the last place he'd want to be, Konomi relaxed her shoulders. She'd put her faith in damage triggers, but she'd received nothing in return. She knew now, that it was most likely over.

"Lady Fencer locks herself. Plus three thousand to Metallia." Ibuki was not about to make assumptions. His expression was unchanging. Konomi decided then, for sure, that she liked him.

"Metallia attacks," He paused. "That's-"

"57 thousand," Konomi had caught him hesitating for a split second. "And an extra critical."

Smiling, Ibuki decided he would let her have that one. "Yes,"

She'd need 45 thousand shield to guard the attack. In her hand, she had 40. If a single damage trigger would have graced her with its presence, it could have made all the difference.

"... No guard."

Surviving an attack with a double critical at 5 damage would really take a miracle. Konomi was not expecting one, and as she turned over her sixth damage and saw Blaster Blade Seeker, she felt somewhat bittersweet.

Ibuki was not sure what to say to her, but luckily it seemed like she was not expecting him to giver her any pardons or words of encouragement.

"It was a good game." Chrono could tell as much himself, and he couldn't bear to stay quiet.

 _"No,"_ Konomi replied sharply as she turned to him, "It wasn't. I couldn't even stride or legion. He completely outclassed me."

Her curt response, her honestly, made Chrono smile. "Sure. But you did your best, and you did well guarding at the end."

"I shouldn't have guarded the vanguard," Konomi wasn't interested in praise as much as she wanted to grow. "I should have guarded the first two attacks, let the Vanguard hit, and saved the perfect Guard for Metallia."

"Sure, but there was no way of knowing he'd check two criticals." He glanced at Ibuki who was no doubt thinking the same as he was. Konomi had indeed not wasted this fight. 

"I think it's pretty obvious that any Link Joker deck favors critical triggers the most," Konomi rebutted, discrediting her own plays. "Messiahs evidently don't mesh with stands. And they have more than enough draw power without draw triggers."

 _"Well--"_ Ibuki was about to interject, when Kai appeared once more.

"Dinner's ready," Barely stern, he still failed to get Konomi's attention.

"Sorry to keep you," Ibuki was always quick to take responsibility.

"That's fine," Kai acknowledged him, but looking at Konomi and Chrono, still with things left to discuss, he let them be.

"Look," Chrono spoke in a somewhat hushed tone, and Konomi leaned in just a little bit. "He took a pretty big risk with that play. Amnesty isn't the first stride he wants to ideally be on, in the long run."

Ibuki had left his field untouched, and Konomi made a point to turn and take yet another look. "He had a great set-up. Really great. It's not the kind of combo you can always count on getting. But to pull it off this early, he needed to take a risk with Amnesty." Chrono was building up to explain more exactly what he meant.

"You end up with four locked cards like this, after doing the skill combo one time." Chrono knew Konomi remembered. "And to do the combo again you need to unlock at least three. Aurion is optional, I guess. Amnesty is the only first stride that'll let you do that. But Amnesty doesn't flip."

Chrono saw on her face, Konomi realized something. "Yeah. So," He continued, and unintentionally, he caught Ibuki looking their way just as he lifted his hand to move Amnesty to show the heart card. "Alter Ego Neo needs GB2 to replenish hand. Messiahs needs to draw consistently to survive, because they need a full field, but they can't superior call at all."

Konomi nodded.

"So Ibuki tooks some risks there. If you had survived, well, perhaps he knew he wouldn't have much of a chance of surviving."

Konomi laid down her hand. Three cards, all triggers. One heal, two stands.

"All I needed was a damage trigger," The heal could have been discarded for a g guardian with 20 thousand shield. Konomi had been saving it. Together with the two triggers it would have been 40 thousand. But it still hadn't been enough.

"Yeah," Chrono knew that feeling. "Ibuki got lucky there. He played well, took some calculated risks, and he got lucky."

It still stings to lose at the first stride, taking as much as 4 damage in one turn. She'd been genuinely frustrated at one point, but Chrono saw Konomi getting back in the game. "Rematch," She said, without question. "After dinner."

"Sure," Chrono could only encourage her. "I'll see to it."

"Right!" Konomi bounced off the sofa. She'd just remembered she was hungry.

      

      

      

      

      

      

Everyone else was already seated when Chrono and Konomi pulled out their chairs. Konomi's food was already served, Kai's specially made curry with apples, with the apples crisp and only lightly seared in the pan.

Ibuki was offered a drink, which he declined. "Sorry, I'm driving,"

"I could drive us," It sounded like a joke when Chrono said it, but Ibuki knew better.

 _"...You're not driving my car,"_ They'd had this conversation before. Chrono was at that awkward stage, where he had a license, but nothing to drive. He feared he'd stagnate, and tried to take any opportunities he had. As for why Ibuki wouldn't let him, well, it was not really a matter of trust, and more a matter of principle. In reality, it wasn't Ibuki's car, it was a company car.

As such, conversations shifted, to work, to school. They were all connected in one way or another. Chrono, especially, who had worked for both Ibuki and Misaki, and who studied where Aichi researched. _The usual question would always be, How's school?_ and Chrono mostly just had the same answer. _Busy_ , he'd say, and there wouldn't be much of a conversation to be made beyond that. With Aichi here, it was a little different. They could talk about it at length.

Misaki talked about the shops, about some of the detail of it all; socially, financially. They had a third location since a few years back, in the bustling electric town. Their brand had some history now, which in itself helped to bring in customers. With Shin at the Asakusa location, Miwa at the original location, and Misaki managing the new location, she had gone back to doing a lot more hands-on work than she had in a while. She had missed it. The Card Capital brand was growing, but Misaki never wanted to stop working the floor, opening and closing, teaching newcomers, judging tournaments. It wasn't the deed in itself, but what it resulted in. Misaki was confident she could use her presence, her experiences, to make even a large and bustling shop a place where people could feel safe and at home. Community was everything.

Ibuki had followed the development over the years, whenever he'd been given a chance. It interested him, for clearly Misaki knew what she was doing. In his line of work too, the presence of individuals who, like Misaki, knew how to cultivate a community were indispensable. Although Ibuki could be a bit reluctant to talk about the technicalities of his job, it was mostly because he himself thought it would easily bore others. However, in regards of his goals and his visions, the results of his efforts practically applied, he did not mind speaking of it, although it might embarrass him. The passions he held for his line of work had been gained, found, rather than something he'd always had. That, if anything, gave him the ability to remain positive even in times of negative development. When things weren't coming together, he knew it was a matter of effort, a matter of trying again, and again, to get through.

Kai enjoyed his friends conversations, but he felt like the biggest thing on all of their minds was about the only one they did not speak off. Konomi was eating her food with a fairly good appetite, but ignoring her greens.

Kai didn't have the heart to say anything. She ate the vegetables in the curry at least. She seemed a bit eager to finish, as children usually would. Sitting and endlessly conversing at the dinner table, that was something adults did that she couldn't understand the importance of.

"I'm finished," She'd say. A statement that she wasn't going to accept anyone questioning.

"That's great sweetie," Aichi said to her, "Wash your hands, okay?"

"Okay," She pushed the chair back with a squeal, and was off to the sink. When she returned and passed by the table, Kai saw her eating something.

 _"Konomi,"_ He said to her. Kai dared to be stern. "If you're still hungry you should have some more food."

She looked at him, and without saying a word, she bit into the leftover piece of apple she'd found in the kitchen. She left to go bother one of the cats for a bit, since she knew the grown ups conversations would drag on.

Kai sighed. "Oh, let her," Aichi said, "It's just some fruit."

"I just wish she'd eat her greens," Kai spoke quietly.

"What vegetables does she like?" Chrono asked, or rather, inquired. "She only left so much of the curry, so she probably just doesn't like them raw. Most kids don't."

"Tomatoes don't really go in curry or stew, and even if I try putting something like broccoli in there, she won't eat it." Kai responded. "She likes... Carrots, at least if they're cooked. And she'll eat cucumbers."

Chrono could sympathize with Kai's frustrations. "It's tricky," He admitted. "A lot of the time they won't even try a vegetable again after they didn't like it one time. There's also stuff like, if it doesn't look tasty, they won't even try it."

Kai didn't know if she'd used to eat vegetables more before, or if she'd always been like this.

"It's probably for the best to not make such a big deal out of it though," Chrono knew it could just make matters worse. "Especially with a girl like her."

On the couch, Konomi was crawled up on the seat, pressing her face into Whiskers the cat's belly. Unmoving, the cat purred. Kai knew how stubborn she was, and indeed, he hadn't been particularly hard on her so far about what she ate. Whatever comments he made though, didn't seem to get through to her at all.

"If you ask, they'll usually cooperate to an extent."

"Ask?"

"Yeah, ask what she doesn't like about the stuff she won't eat. Might help you figure out what'll make her eat 'em." Chrono was getting into the topic. "Ryuuzu's always hated vegetables, 'cause like... there's too many adults around him who just wanna spoil him." Chrono wasn't mentioning any names at this time. "Anyway, raw or boiled didn't work, and he'd pick them out of fried rice or whatever I tried. So I talk to him, you know, and he says he doesn't like the taste of the raw vegetables or the texture of the boiled ones."

Kai was thinking. Naturally there were more ways to prepare most vegetables. They way he said it, it sounded like Chrono had found a solution. "So, what did you do then?"

"I tried a few different things. He's still pretty picky but he'll eat some vegetables roasted, at least if I put some salt or cheese on them. If that'll work for her I don't know, but it's worth talking to her about it, you know, without any pressure," Kai could only agree. "Honestly though,"

Chrono had a number of experiences with children like Konomi from a young age. "In her case, you're lucky she's eating as well as she is. So instead of worrying about what she won't eat, you should reward her for any little thing she finishes."

Chrono usually had no issue speaking uncomfortable truths. Aichi smiled, in the way only he could.

"Oh, but Kai only ever makes her favorite foods," In the beginning, indeed, they'd had their period of trial and error. "And she eats a lot more now than she used to."

"Oh, well," Chrono smiled, too. "In that case, you already have your head in the game, huh?"

 _Just ask her,_ Kai thought. It was the same as what Aich had told him. Communication. Silent agreements, silent understandings, an unconditional love with no need for words; that was the beautiful ideal. If you just have love, and dedication, everything else would work itself out. In reality, no such thing existed. Luckily, the very real alternative that existed was quite simple.

As Kai was clearing the table, stacking the dishes in the sink, he felt Konomi tug at his shirt again. Her steady gaze bore into him, her mouth twitched, her fists still tight even after she'd gotten his attention; Kai realized something was probably wrong.

Kai did not speak, but he lowered himself to her height, crouching on the floor. Konomi looked at him, then towards the living room double couches, and then at him again. She leaned in to whisper to him.

 _"Chrono promised he'd help me find a way to beat Ibuki,"_ Some drama was clearly taking place in her world, _"But I'm not sure how serious he is about it!"_

Konomi held her little hands on Kai's overarms, and they were huddled together in a secret concession. Kai turned as Konomi did, and witnessed, across the room, Chrono and Ibuki seated next to each other, engaging in what appeared to be a friendly conversation.

 _"See?"_ Konomi's grip on Kai's shirt strengthened again. Kai didn't know what to say.

"You want a rematch again Ibuki, right?" They'd been overheard, and Kai wouldn't have to think of anything to say. Misaki smiled. "I'm not so shabby myself. What do you say?"

Konomi decided to trust her on it immediately.

At the dinner table, Miwa refilled his glass, and Aichi still had food left on his plate he was planning to finish. It was past dinner time, but the night would be long.

"... Is she alright?" Ibuki had been meaning to ask, but had been unable to do so until now. Suffering such a crushing defeat could be hard, and she was just a child.

"Oh, she's fine," Chrono reassured him. Ibuki trusted his judgement, and trusted him to tell the truth. Chrono would never lie to him just to spare his feelings. "She's eager for a rematch though,"

 _Fair enough,_ Ibuki thought. It wasn't exactly surprising. If anything it was comforting.

Back in her seat, Konomi was putting her cards out, just as Ibuki was putting his back together. With her first vanguard face down, her deck shuffled and five cards drawn, Konomi needed not to say any words to get her point across. Ibuki had managed to shake his unease, and was happily her opponent.

Spectating, Misaki was right next to Konomi. She watched her shuffle two cards from her hand and redraw. It had been a long time now, since she'd last had the opportunity to reflect over her own past like this. Time had passed for her, too, and it was bittersweet to see Konomi overcome what had taken herself so many, many years. Misaki knew better than to hold it against herself. As similar as they may be, she and Konomi were still different, as were their circumstances. Even now, Konomi was playing a different game than Misaki had been. The deck she used had not been inherited, but granted. Misaki had thought if she should ask, on the basis that she wanted to tell, tell her something about herself.

"You seem quite fond of that deck," She hoped Konomi could tell she asked because she wanted to know. No doubt she was tired of insincerely inquiring adults. Misaki knew that feeling all too well herself. "You've already been using it for a while already, haven't you?"

"It's fun," Konomi didn't sound particularly convinced. She said it in a dismissive manner, but the fact that she actually said it was worth a lot on its own. "I can't beat Aichi or Toshiki with it though. Not yet."

Misaki had specifically asked if the deck was fun, and nothing else. Konomi was quite focused on winning, or rather, improving. It gave her something to think about, something to distract her when there was nothing else. When she got home from school, when she was falling asleep in her bed, the silent moments here and there, when she felt like she going to be engulfed. Currently on her turn to ride her first grade 3, she was revisiting her visions, her thoughts and ideas on how to improve, both herself and the deck. Maturation, development; it was never quite as linear as you'd believe. Konomi knew as much, in her own previous experiences with building and testing decks. It was applicable elsewhere as well. As Kai had told her, the road to the future isn't always so straight and narrow. She'd been able to accept that, apply it elsewhere, in more ways than one. Slowly, she was starting to understand what it meant to move on. It would be two steps forward, one step back, and sometimes, you'd be standing still, unable to move, although you might have been able to do so the day before.

She was focusing on something that made life feel worthwhile, one day at a time, and perhaps that was why it frustrated her so much when things didn't turn out the way she wanted. It was essentially a non-issue. She would improve. She would get better. She believed as much. Even if she still often doubted that she could ever move on, there were other things she could do.

"You've even modified it," Misaki said it as a compliment.

With Ibuki's deck locked behind generation break 1 unlike her own, Konomi had yet again reconsidered the importance of rushing. She had taken an extra moment to consider her hand; which units were expendable, and which ones weren't? Ibuki in particular was an opponent she found interesting. In reality, she knew that beating him would be incredibly difficult where she was now. However, fighting him not only served as a great distraction that would certainly give her a whole lot of inspiration, it was more than that.

The deck she'd been given had history. She hadn't unraveled it all yet, but it was significant for far more reasons than she'd initially realized. Konomi was not that impatient. She'd know it all in time, sooner or later. Rather than finding out _"why"_ , she wanted to know _"how"_ ; _how_ had the deck become significant. She'd asked one time, as Aichi had been taking her home from school. They'd stopped by the Tokyo University science dept. where Aichi worked and carried out his research. They'd met Ibuki there, briefly, in passing, and they'd spoken casually to one another. It wasn't the first time Konomi had met him, nor learned of him, but she'd learned that to both Kai and Aichi, Ibuki was a friend above all else. Aichi had held her hand as they'd walked through the lush courtyard, through the red gate, and as they spoke she'd learned Ibuki was part the reason "how". 

If she fought him, if she could understand how he countered her deck, then she felt like she could understand something. In part, it was nothing but childlike curiosity. The sort of childlike curiosity you may wish to never grow out of. But it was also simple facts, that Ibuki had a connection to the deck that had helped her reconnect with Vanguard that she was yet to know much about.

"I've modified it a little," It was less that she was humble. She really didn't think it was that much of a big deal. "Just a little though."

Konomi was bold in her own way. That much was true.

"Well, it can be hard to modify a deck you were given..." Misaki hoped she wouldn't be misunderstood. She didn't mean to imply Konomi had done something wrong.

"Toshiki said it's my deck now. So I can do what I want."

Well, that sure was a healthy, if simple, way of seeing it. "My parents left me a deck, a long time ago. It was hard to start using it, even harder to change it," Consecutive losses, a dwindling sense of confidence. It hadn't made editing the deck easier. She'd felt like it was all her own fault, for not being able to make things come together. Misaki realized this was different. Kai and Aichi were right here. If anything, her willingness to make the deck her own might signify that Konomi did understand that they weren't going anywhere.

"I call Seeker, Valiant Roar Dragon. As long as I have 4 or more units with Seeker in their name, all my front row units have resist." Counting File, and Thing Saver on the vg, Konomi only had 2 units so far. "I call Tranquil Unicorn. With it's skill, I give Valiant plus five thousand," The skill was necessary. Valiant Roar dragon had only 8 thousand power, now the column was at 18 thousand total. Konomi had a little plan going on.

"..." Konomi was thinking, about more than just her plays. Her mother had left her cards. A lot of them, not only her main deck that she used. In her mind, it was all sealed away, beyond her reach. Misaki could understand.

"But thinking about it now, I feel a little silly." Misaki smiled. "In the end, it's just a deck. It can come apart, and back together. It's not like anything is set in stone, you know?"

"...I call Light Blaze Dragon," Ignored not, but there was only so to say at this time. With that, Konomi had filled all but one of her rearguard circles. Valiant Roar's conditions had been met and more. Even when Ibuki inevitably locked one of her back row units next turn with a stride skill, the condition would be met. "Light Blaze attacks."

No boost, and with Ibuki still at grade 2, it was nine versus nine thousand.

"No guard." Ibuki could have guarded easily, but truth was, he needed the damage. Damage checking, he put one Sacrifice Messiah in the damage zone.

"Light Blaze's skill. Plus five thousand to Valiant Roar." Now with her other column at 23 thousand, she was past the threshold of 19 with Ibuki at grade 2. Guarding would take a little bit more hand now. Chrono took note of how she was playing a little differently from last time.

"The Vanguard attacks," With boost from File, it was 16 thousand.

Ibuki considered it. With this, he'd hit at least 3 damage. "...No guard."

"Drive check," Konomi bounced forward in her seat. "First check,"

Generation Seeker, Menevia. Good to have for her next turn, but not a trigger.

"Second check," She paused for just a second before throwing it down. She wanted to reduce Ibuki's hand, desperately.

Seeker, Hallowed Breath Dragon. "Critical Trigger! I give the critical to the Vanguard, and the power to Valiant Roar,"

Two damage would sting. Appearing in the damage zone, one after another, was one Lady Battler of the Black Dwarf, and one Alter Ego Neo Messiah. Perhaps Konomi's bad luck with damage triggers had been transferred to Ibuki, now?

"Valiant Roar attacks," Resting the unit and the booster, Konomi announced the attack. That would be 28 thousand, and a minimum of 20 thousand guard.

Ibuki didn't want to hit 5 damage. In his hand, a heal trigger; sources that could not yet be utilized. Carina could not yet aid him. To his right, he felt Chrono lean in a little closer. Ibuki jerked back in his seat, disturbed. It'd only taken him only a split second to realize Chrono was looking at his hand.

 _"...Do you mind?"_ Ibuki's glare failed to intimidate. His reaction had only served to amuse Chrono, who did not apologize, but made a show out of moving out of his personal space.

Konomi was starting to get impatient at the opposite end of the field, that much could be told from her expression. Misaki had tried to stifle a laugh at Ibuki's reaction.

"I..." Having gotten a little distracted, Ibuki tried to regain his focus. "I guard," A draw trigger, Destiny Dealer, and a critical trigger got him the 20 thousand shield he needed.

Three cards, not bad. Konomi was relatively pleased. With all her units rested, it was Ibuki's turn. Standing and drawing, now a bit self-conscious, he kept an eye on Chrono.

Konomi had indeed already altered the deck Kai and Aichi had given her. She thought of her mothers cards, and she thought of Misaki's words. She knew the Royal Paladin card pool well, better than any other clan by far. She had pride in that, but she felt discouraged, for many of those cards were now locked away, via their association. Konomi wasn't ready yet, and just like it had taken Misaki many years to touch the cards her late parents had left her, but it was on her mind. Maybe a card or two couldn't hurt. After all, like Misaki had said, it was in the end, just a deck. She could always put it back together if it didn't feel right. Maybe, eventually, Konomi could add pieces of her own story to the deck Kai and Aichi had given her, card by card.

It was just a thought. It didn't linger; she wouldn't let it. But certainly, it could return to her, when she was ready.

Ibuki's turn. Like Konomi had suspected, he'd ridden Alter Ego Neo, and with the stride skill locked her File in the back row. Striding onto Flageolet, she could already tell this turn would be different from his last first stride turn. Frankly, Konomi was a little frustrated Ibuki had gotten first stride again, something which no doubt had affected how she'd acted last turn.

However, right now, the scuffle opposite of her was getting a little distracting. "Well, you sure got stingy," Chrono had commented, unable to keep silent.

Ibuki was certain Chrono was up to something, although he wasn't sure what. "You're distracting me."

"Okay, _sorry,"_ Chrono got up from his seat, switching sides.

Ibuki got back to reconsidering what he was going to play out and what he was going to save on hand, but it hadn't been more than a second after Chrono had sat down on the other couch, that Ibuki saw him, above the the line created by the edge of his cards, leaning in to whisper in Konomi's ear.

Like a mirror image, they both grinned, and when they saw Ibuki's face paling, they smiled only wider at his predictable reaction.

 _"Wh-"_ He couldn't find the words at first. "What did you tell her?"

"Oh, nothing much," Chrono replied casually.

Spectating, Misaki was still trying not to laugh. Now flustered, Ibuki wasn't about to actually get angry, but it was a little hard to not get worked up. Whatever it was, they were plotting against him in some way.

 _"Come on,"_ Konomi was growing increasingly impatient, despite the smile on her face. "Hurry up, it's your turn."

It wasn't all that easy to get Ibuki angry. He'd get irritated at best, but if you so wished, it was possible to push him until he snapped. Well, at least if you knew how.

Making eye-contact with him, Chrono leaned in to whisper in Konomi's ear a second time.

"...Could you stop that?"

"What?" Chrono wasn't actually trying to play dumb. "What, you think we're talking about you?"

Konomi laughed, a quiet, bubbly laugh. Misaki had been close enough to overhear them, and had started to give up trying to look any less entertained.

"You're unbelievable," Ibuki wasn't sure why, why would Chrono do this to him.

"Why, thank you," Chrono wasn't always one to tease, but he could be if he wanted.

They'd succeeded in getting Ibuki worked up, but it would take a lot more than that to break his focus. Straightening his back in his seat, Ibuki found his resolve, grasped his vision. He'd finish this fight this turn.

"...You've earned yourself no mercy,"

Konomi grinned. "That's how I like it."

      

      

      

      

      

      

Konomi barely took herself time to take a break for deserts, and she wouldn't let Ibuki do anything but the same. She lost the second and the third games they played, but she'd managed to stay alive a little bit longer each time. Ibuki had failed to defeat her on his first stride already during their second game, so she was quite quickly doing progress. Their third game, it was Konomi who got first stride, and as the game dragged on she'd survived to do a second and third. It had been starting to get late by then, but she wouldn't acknowledge it. Miwa and Misaki started talking about leaving, but by then Ibuki was already locked in a fourth game. With the two of them eventually leaving, everyone saying their goodbyes, Konomi let Misaki hug her. She'd grown a bit uneasy. The day she'd been looking forward to was coming to an end.

Ibuki continued to go undefeated. As their fourth game ended, they'd been left alone for a spell. With Ibuki as his only ride home now that the trains has stopped running, Chrono was still around; not that he minded. He conversed with Aichi in the kitchen. On the topic of the Tokyo University teaching plan, about current popular reasearch topics among this year's graduate students, and how current trends would reflect the future advancements within the fields. Academics, something Ibuki had limited experience with, something which he he regretted, envied, when he overheard them speak.

"One more time," Konomi said, without question, but it wasn't so hard to tell that she knew she was pressing her luck with the way she glanced towards the kitchen. She knew it was way past her bedtime, she knew that Aichi and Kai would tell her to go to bed if they knew they'd finished up.

Ibuki was able to guess as much with how late it was. When she looked at him then, when he had not yet answered, Ibuki saw some of the hope in her eyes flicker and die. It hurt him so, and he thought, that if he'd learned something about her tonight, it was that she held so much love in her heart for this game.

"Alright," He sighed, smiling. "One more time." How was he supposed to say no?

It was a different Ibuki who'd accepted her challenge now, than the one she'd first met earlier that night, Konomi thought.

It was just a few minutes later when Kai showed up to have a look at them. "...Are you not finished?" He asked, clearly on to them.

"...No?" Konomi hid her face behind her hand of cards. Kai looked at Ibuki, who was complicit, and bad at hiding it.

Kai realized there was no point in bothering them. A fight that's started cannot be stopped, after all. That was his excuse. "Aichi," He left them, heading towards the kitchen. "I'll make some tea. Since it'll be a while longer."

"Oh, okay," Aichi had snapped to attention.

"I guess they're still playing, huh?" Chrono thought he should return to his role as moral support, even if he suspected Konomi might not need it anymore.

Kai made tea, and they all conversed in the living room. Ibuki and Konomi had an audience of three now, an audience which casually observed them. Rubbing her eyes, Konomi was clearly becoming sleepy, despite her efforts. She remained sharp in her plays, but her turns took a bit longer than they had before. As Konomi went on her second stride, the surrounding conversation died off a little, as this would probably be it. Konomi's attitude was appropriately do or die, and Ibuki only seemed to reinforce that attitude in her. Once it was clear he would survive, she came to an understanding of sorts. It would be wrong to say she was satisfied, but some of her curiosity was sated. She could see now, more exactly how things fell into place, how the many small but crucial choices came together over the course of many turns, and the advantage they accumulated. Ibuki's survival was not a fluke, or luck, it wasn't even about Konomi not trying hard enough. He was better than she was. It was frustrating, but it gave her something definite to strive for. When Ibuki's turn came around once more, she'd expended most of her resources. Knowing it would take a miracle to survive, Konomi still played diligently until the end.

Escort Eagle appeared in the damage zone; her last damage. Konomi threw herself back in her seat. Her expression had softened even in defeat. She was tired.

"You're already getting a lot better," Chrono complimented her. "Like this, you'll beat Ibuki in no time!"

"I know," She replied, rubbing her eyes again, and her confidence was still so amusing to those who listened.

She'd been drinking a little tea, and asked politely for some fruit, but with her energy reserves just about depleted, there weren't many options left.

"Sweetie, why don't you lay down for a bit?" Aichi suggested, knowing she might not cooperate if asked directly to go to bed.

"Okay," Konomi replied quietly, her voice growing a little weaker. She'd lie down for a while, she thought. Just a little while. She grabbed a pillow to make place for herself on the couch, and still holding onto it in her arms she laid back down and rested her head against a pillow on the arm rest. To the comforting sound of familiar voices, Konomi relaxed, and within minutes, she was asleep.

They let her sleep, and drank their tea. It was almost 1 AM when Chrono and Ibuki finally left, saying goodbye. It was a Saturday night, so they hadn't been in any actual hurry to leave. The house was quiet once more, and speaking in hushed voices, Kai and Aichi took care of the last few dishes and chores. While at peace, Konomi couldn't sleep on the couch all night. Kai eventually took it upon himself to relocate her, steadily, he picked her up into his arms. She woke, half asleep, and twisted herself in his grip and whined. He put her back down, with no other choice but to do so, and back on the couch, Konomi squirmed and rubbed her face.

"It's late," Kai spoke to her quietly. "Let's get you to bed."

Konomi was waking up, becoming aware of her surroundings, remembering what had happened. The house indeed was quiet once more, and Konomi took notice. "Where's Chrono?" She asked, voice muffled by her hands, by sleepiness.

Kai thought to choose his words, his tone. "...Shindou and Ibuki left. It's really late, Konomi."

Silent for a spell, Konomi turned her head to look up at Kai, who felt an approaching uproar.

"They... left?" Her face pale, masked, contrasting to the tears he could already hear in her voice. "They left?"

"I'm sorry. It's really late, so they had to leave." He hope she'd understand, somehow.

 _"They just-"_ The sobs came before the tears. Kai could see how tired she was, and reaching out to console her, she didn't react. _"They just left?"_

Aichi had heard them, and came to Konomi's aid. "I- _I, wanted to-"_ Face in her hands, cheeks wetting, shoulders shaking, Konomi was now crying freely. _"At least say goodbye,"_

 _Of course,_ Kai thought. Aichi sat by her, and when he laid his arm around her, she let him. "I'm so sorry, sweetie. You were asleep, and we didn't want to wake you up."

"They just left," Her voice was growing stronger, _"I wanted to, I--"_

With not much else to do, Aichi hugged her. With her hands still tightly pressed again her face, Konomi pressed against him. He stroke her head. "You'll see them soon again, sweetie,"

Having only watched them, Kai got up, and left. Aichi turned his head to watch him go, not yet quite about to grow fully distressed. 

To the hallway by the front door, Kai had retreated. It was Chrono who picked up, having fished the phone out of Ibuki's pocket. Kai had been right; they were still on the road. Phone pressed against his ear, Kai came back into the living room. Konomi hadn't picked up on the conversation, the sounds drowned out by her own sobs, but when Kai spoke to her, she raised her face from Aichi's chest.

"Konomi," He put the phone out to her, and she seemed to understand something. "Shindou's on the phone. He wants to talk to you."

Letting out another sob, Konomi wordlessly reached for Kai's phone with grabby hands. With both her hands, she held it to her ear.

"Hello?" Weakly, she spoke into the phone, as if she didn't expect anyone to respond.

"Hey, it's me," When Chrono's voice rang out, a stillness came over her, tears still rolling down her cheeks. "I'm really sorry we didn't properly say goodbye. I promise we'll always say goodbye properly from now on, okay?"

"You just left," Konomi sniffled. "I miss you."

"Yeah, we shouldn't have done that. We shouldn't have just left. I'm sorry." Chrono didn't make any excuses. Konomi could hear he was listening, and that he was sorry, which was something she needed. Leaning his arm against the window armrest in the front passenger seat of Ibuki's car, Chrono was watching the neighborhoods go by in the dark. "But you know what? We'll see each other soon again, like, super soon, okay?"

"Next week?" On the couch, Konomi was drying her tears with her sleeve.

Chrono smiled. She was quick to make demands, wanting definite plans. It was understandable. So much of her life had been shrouded in uncertainty.

"Sure, next week," What else was he supposed to say? "We'll work it out somehow. I'll talk to Aichi. We'll make some plans. I promise."

"...Can Ibuki come too?" She was quick to ask, having calmed down a little.

 _"Well-"_ Chrono did not want to hesitate. He wanted to tell her yes, but he knew Ibuki was usually too busy to make plans short notice. "We'll work it out somehow, okay? You'll get to see him, too."

"Can I talk to him?"

"Sure, of course," Chrono replied to her warmly, and holding the phone up to Ibuki, he spoke to him hushedly. _"She wants to talk to you,"_

Genuinely surprised, almost a little disturbed, Ibuki let out a quiet _"Huh?"_

Chrono wasn't sure why he was so surprised, but it sure was fun to see his reaction. Taking the phone, looking as if he'd never had a call handed to him before, Ibuki pressed it to his ear. _"...Hello?"_

 _"Ibuki,"_ He could hear her sniffling, and felt his heart hurt for her. "Can I see you again next week? Chrono says I can."

Ibuki was certain Chrono hadn't quite promised such a thing, but how was he supposed to let it bother him? "Well, I... Of course you can."

 _"Promise?"_ She wasn't fully convinced just yet, her voice still fragile on the other end.

"I promise," Ibuki knew it would become troublesome, but whatever, he thought. He'd make time, somehow. It wasn't an empty promise.

"Okay," Konomi seemed satisfied. She sighed, some of the turmoil leaving her. "You didn't say goodbye," She continued, going back to what had started this.

"...We can say goodbye now."

Ibuki's words seemed to lift a weight off her shoulders. "Yeah. We could."

"Goodbye," Ibuki told her, "I'll see you soon."

"Goodbye, Ibuki. Can I say goodbye to Chrono, too?"

"Yes, of course you can. I'll be passing over the phone now,"

Now back with both hands at the steering wheel, Ibuki breathed a sigh of relief of his own.

"Goodbye, Konomi. Sleep tight. I'll see you soon. Goodbye,"

"Goodbye, Chrono. Goodnight."

Chrono waited for her to hang up before doing so himself. Putting the phone on the dashboard, he too, seemed to relax.

"Do you think she'll be alright?" Ibuki asked, not certain what to expect.

"She's sad. And she might be for a while..." Chrono was just being realistic, and as Ibuki sighed deeply, he turned to look at him. "Don't blame yourself. If we'd left when she was awake, something like this probably would have happened back there at the house instead."

"...I suppose." Ibuki hadn't considered that. "She seemed most upset we didn't say goodbye, though."

"Yeah..." Chrono had to admit as much. "But like, more than anything, she didn't want us to leave in the first place. She was dragging things on, you know?"

"Poor child," Ibuki exhaled his words quietly, and Chrono felt the sentiment cut deeply inside him.

"Will you be able to make it next week?" He asked, after only a moment's silence.

"I'll have to now," Ibuki responded honestly. "It's not like I could say no. Although I can't really say I understand why, exactly..."

"What do you mean?" Chrono almost found it comical. "She obviously likes you."

"Isn't it you who she likes?" Ibuki wasn't so sure, but he knew better than to discredit Chrono's judgement.

"I mean, sure, but..." Chrono shrugged, "She obviously likes you too?"

Ibuki wasn't sure what he had to offer her, but presumably it had to be something. "I suppose I'll... have to try and do my best then. Not to disappoint her."

"Yes, please do your very best," Smiling, in a peculiar sort of way, Chrono agreed. "She's counting on all of us."

Ibuki was silent in his agreement, catching Chrono's eyes only in the windshield reflection. While he was fairly confident he could clear up his schedule one way or another, there was still one thing on his mind that bothered him.

"What-" He felt himself colored by his past irritation, "Were you whispering to her back then?"

 _"Oh?"_ Feeling Chrono's eyes on him, Ibuki would've squirmed in his seat. He was keeping his eyes on the road. "You wanna know? You really wanna know?"

Tearing his eyes away, Ibuki's glare was dull. He was tired. Chrono gave it up.

"I said, _if I do this, then he'll get really irritated, just watch it,_ " Addmitting it now, it was appropiratedly childlish. Ibuki wouldn't be mad, would he? 

As the street lights flashed them by, lighting up the reflection of his own smile in the windshield, Ibuki had to face his own predictability. "I suppose you got me there."

      

      

      

      

      

      

When her sleeves were both soaked, Konomi turned to wipe her tears on Aichi's shirt. It had taken some time, but she'd eventually stopped crying. She was still so tired, and after a short, hushed conversation, she fell into silence. Raising her arms above her head, she reached for Kai, almost like a baby. He picked her up, and while she was too big, too old to be carried around leisurely, Kai had no complaints. She had an iron grip around his shoulders, and still quietly sniffling, he brought her upstairs.

Konomi's bedroom, with the sky blue walls and full length curtains, her bed littered with all of her old stuffed animals. It felt like a different world compared to downstairs, where the warm lights were still on, the presence of guests still lingered and where you could still smell the food that had been cooking on the stove. Kai had put Konomi down on the bed in the unlit room. He didn't bother to tell her to brush her teeth. She wasn't the type who needed that sort of lecture. She crawled in under the covers herself, putting her still damp cheeks against the cool pillow. Kai sat by her, reaching to tuck her in. Pulling the covers all the way up past her chin, Konomi appeared to shiver. Laying his hand on top of her arm where she laid on her side, Kai felt her relax a little.

Stroking her hair as she breathed, Kai thought if there was something he could say. Her tears turning into anxieties, stirring a response in her body that was not old, still so fresh. Parting was hard, the unexpected and expected both, not knowing, not seeing, feeling lost, helpless. Ingrained was still the fear, the fear of being left behind, and the sadness, the grief of loss. Kai hoped she'd still been able to have fun today. He and Aichi tried to fill her days with things she enjoyed, as much as they could without over stimulating her, and it had seemed to help her settle into her new life. Kai knew the dark days, the dark moments would still come. He knew that Konomi knew that too, which was why when she cried, it was so hard for her stop. He wished she knew though, that no matter how good or bad, he and Aichi would always be there for her.

She still shivered a little. Kai could tell that she was scared. Fearful, of the present, of the future, and of the past. Dominated by the illogical conclusions that were rooted in her grief, feelings that were way to heavy to be carried by her tiny body. Knowing for certain she wouldn't fall asleep anytime soon, Kai spoke to her.

"I'll be here," Kai knew it was still hard to talk. Maybe when she was a little bit more comfortable, a little bit more settled in. "I'm not going anywhere."

In her arms, Konomi held her favorite stuffed animal, a large and worn out penguin. It was round, and very cute; probably had been even more so when her father had first given it to her when she was just a baby. It would be easy to conclude that her long since late father had played a limited role in her life, and no doubt he'd had little say in the matter. Turning it around, Konomi had no doubt played a large part in his life; Kai certainly believed as much. It was hard, even for him, to think of the people that were gone, despite never having known or met them. Their legacy existed without question, she was right here, the proof of their love, to life, to each other, and the proof of their faith in the future.

He reached out, and gently brushed the top of her hand. She responded by taking his hand, in a tight grip. Kai leaned back, his head against the wall. He closed his eyes and listened to her quiet breathing.

Time was circular once more. Over and over, he would relive the same pains, the same joys. Right now, he was reliving his distant childhood, the memories of family, of his own mother's and father's comforting touch, their presence. In the dark, Konomi eventually fell asleep, and Kai was left awake in the night. It was strange, he thought. His own grief felt so raw, as fresh as the memories, but he understood something he'd never understood before. He understood how his own parents had loved him, how they'd watched over him, how they'd lost him, just like he had them. He'd known, he'd know for a long time, but never quite managed to understand. It comforted him, despite everything.

After all, if Konomi's late parents could live on in her, his parents could do the same, inside him. He'd come to believe as much, but the perspective had shifted again. He was higher now, higher than ever before. Lighter, freer.

 _Maybe it really was possible to move on,_ Kai thought. 

      

      

      

      

      

      

His name being called, hands on his shirt, Kai woke, like a spell being broken. He never even realized how tired he'd been. He'd dreamt, lightly, of abstract, yet familiar things.

 _"Toshiki,"_ Konomi's outline was a little hard to make out in the dark. She was sitting on the head end of her bed, grabby hands, as usual, on his shirt. "I need to go to the bathroom."

Her voice had regained that demanding tone. Kai was still shaking off the sleep. "Sure," He replied, and he needed say no more before she started slipping out of bed.

"Come on," She pulled his arm, and he got up, holding her hand.

She wore her striped pajamas, comfy, like she preferred. At the bathroom door, she let go, and said, confidently, that she could go by herself. Kai let her, waiting by the door. After he heard the toilet flush and the tap water run, it only took about a second before she peered out from behind the door.

She reached up and made him hold the penguin, and took his hand. "Do you want to go back to bed?" Kai asked. It had been several hours, but it was not yet morning, especially not for a young child like Konomi.

"Yeah," She yawned. She seemed quite calm, but Kai wasn't fooled. There was some unrest under the surface. She held his hand tightly.

"You should go to bed, too." She said, a little sternly.

"I should," He replied, as they walked down the hall side by side. "But I'm a little scared."

She looked at him, and through the sleepiness on her face, Kai saw the thoughts swirl in her head.

"I'll put you to bed, so don't worry," She said, still holding his hand. "Aichi is probably lonely without us, anyway."

"Oh, he probably is..." Kai smiled, and Konomi did too.

Past the door, Konomi let go off his hand with ease, and eagerly climbed into bed. Aichi awoke when he felt her crawl up next to him, and he mumbled.

"Oh, hello, sweetie," Kai could hear in his voice that he was only half awake, half asleep. Without hesitation he offered his arm to her, and she took it.

Laying down on the bed, Kai felt how tired he was. The drapes weren't shut in his and Aichi's bedroom, and outside, morning was approaching. He'd have to get up again in a few hours, but for now, he would rest.

Konomi was comfortable, and Aichi was already deeply asleep again. Despite his sleepiness, Kai watched them for a few minutes before closing his eyes once more.

      

      

      

      

      

      

The long night ended. Nature took no notice of the happenings in the lives of humans, and comfortingly, jarringly, she went on with her business. Animals were the same, and Kai woke like he had every morning in this house in the past few years. He was still dressed, in the same pants and shirt as last night, when Gloria trudged up the stairs, claws clicking against the floor. Licking his hand, she knew to stay quiet.

Waking in a daze thicker than before, Kai first acted without thought or reason. He had his routine, and it had been ingrained into him. Before leaving the room, he turned around. The light from the window stung his eyes. Aichi and Konomi were still sleeping. He went over to the window and shut the drapes, shut the door and went down the stairs, but not without casting one short glance upon the bed.

The cats lined up to fed, and they did not quite know as well to be quiet. Kai gave them each some attention, head pats, neck scratches. Bushy was sometimes not satisfied until he got picked up and cuddled.

Outdoors was both warm and humid. Gloria pulled on the leash as she always did on her morning walks, before she calmed down. She knew that when Kai was holding her leash, she wouldn't get away with things quite as easily. He let her go at the dog park, and watched her run, as she did without any prompting. Maybe it was the warm morning air, or the empty streets, or the comforting predictability of the same old routine that carried on day in and day out, but his head was refreshingly empty. Gloria ran at him, rounding him, jumping excitedly. Walking slowly into the enclosure, Kai decided he would take his time and play with her.

It was impossible not to retrace his thoughts from the night before, but he'd grown all the more independent from his preconceptions. His thoughts flowed more freely, and in the present he'd been liberated from his sadness. It was easier now than ever before to remember all the good things and treasure those memories. Remembering had used to hurt so much, but this morning, he could smile with ease recalling the little detail of his early childhood.

Kai knew well the fears of being left behind, of losing the things that mattered most. It had been the fear hanging over him all year, an old, worn-out demon that'd latched onto him when his parents passed and then etched itself into him. Konomi was the same, fundamentally. Kai felt quite confident, that at the very least he could make it a bit easier, a bit more comprehensible. Maybe not all on his own, but with his guidance, she could do better. Maybe she wouldn't have to lose so many years of development, maybe she wouldn't have the demon succeed in convincing her that the bad things were all her own fault, her punishment. He felt quite confident, no, quite certain, that with his help, Konomi could do better than he had.

On the way back, he ran into the neighbor lady, Tabata along with her dog, Gloria's occasional playmate. As they always did, they greeted one another.

"Good morning," She seemed to light up, like the newly risen sun in the sky when she saw them. "You're early today again, I see! You put this old lady to shame,"

"Good morning," Kai returned the gesture. "And not at all. It's Gloria who sets the schedule."

She laughed. "Oh, but of course. She's a lively girl as always!"

"Yeah," Kai hadn't really realized how early it was. At some point last summer he'd started sleeping less, sleeping lighter, waking up earlier. Gloria had caught onto this, and taken advantage of it in her own helpful way. It was better to walk the dog in the greenery than lay in bed, awake, struggling with your thoughts. "She sure is."

"How are things?" She asked somewhat carefully. She didn't know any details but it was hard not to notice the girl, who came and went from school, who accompanied the dog walks in the afternoons, who played on the recently bought swingset on the plot of grass outside the house.

"...Things are alright," Kai didn't have to lie. Such luxury. "We've settled in nicely."

"Oh, that's great to hear," Tabata replied, happily content. "Please, say hello to the family from me,"

"Oh, yes," He smiled. "You, too."

It was hard to say exactly when things had started to change, but while Kai had worried about the unpredictability of the cause he and Aichi had taken upon themselves, most unpredictable of all had been positive things they'd gained.

Taking off his shoes, wiping Gloria's paws, Kai came back inside. The bright morning promised a warm day, like the forecast had foretold. The house was still silent, and as he came into the living room, where the crisp light ruled his vision, Kai felt as if he was living a waking dream. Reality was fragile, like he'd always feared it would be, since long before his happiness had ever taken shape. It was just a shred, but with even that little doubt, he felt longing. Kai climbed the stairs. As quietly as he could, he opened the door.

With his mind's eye, he painted a picture. It was the image that had haunted him. It just happened, and he let it, not letting it control him, either.

The image of the empty house, empty like when his parents passed, empty like when he'd lived on his own for all those years; that very image painted, and shattered. Aichi and Konomi were sleeping next to each other, just like they had when Kai had left. Aichi was still in his sleep, usually with the covers up past his chin, but Konomi was a little rowdy when she slept, throwing off the covers and with her legs sprawled across the bed. Together, it was like a mix of both worlds. They slept soundly in the shade of the drapes, unaware that Kai had ever left.

Back and forth, in his hopes and in his worries, that never quite seemed to change beyond the superficial level. By going back to beginning, retracing his steps, revisiting his past, Kai had managed to regain what he'd lost. Past, present and future, he had his family back.

      

      

      

      

      

      

Overcast, with rain hanging in the air, it was a stuffy and humid summer day. It was the following Tuesday. Konomi hated Tuesdays, because on Tuesdays she had counseling. She never made any real efforts to get out of it, but when Aichi came to pick her up after school on Tuesdays she was always a bit different. Sitting in the foyer, waiting the hour Konomi would take to pass, Aichi was trying to get some work done on his computer. When Konomi eventually showed, she looked tired. On the train, it was crowded and hard to find seats; Aichi let her sit on his lap. As they got off the train and approached the site of the Vanguard Association main branch building, with its impressive traditional silhouette visible from afar, Konomi regained her energy and grew excited.

Ibuki's creme car was parked in the tiny employee only parking lot, but when they spotted him, he was coming down the walkway from the main gate to the main building. Behind him, Chrono crept down the stairs, hand in hand with Ryuuzu, who'd made a game out of not stepping on any cracks in the pavement, hopping at his own pace. A year or so younger than Konomi, smaller and with his round baby-face, Ryuuzu was a sweet and curious boy. When Konomi saw them, she rushed ahead. Waving, Aichi greeted them as they approached.

Ryuuzu reached Ibuki first, grabbing his hand, holding onto it, swinging his body weight. Konomi was next, grabbing his other hand, mimicking Ryuuzu, swinging with her own greater strength. Aichi laughed at the sight, and Ibuki struggled with the two little fiends, feisty Konomi and mischievous Ryuuzu. Walking towards the car, Ryuuzu and Konomi latched onto Ibuki's sides, making it hard for him to walk. Aichi and Chrono watched him go, prolonging their greetings.

By the car, Ibuki was having a hard time getting into the driver's seat. Grabbing Konomi and Ryuuzu both by the back of their shirts, and held them out at an arm's length.

_"Chrono, could you--"_

"Come on kids," With a smile, Chrono easily herded the children into the backseat.

Aichi settled in the front passenger seat, and Chrono between the kids in the backseat.

The car started moving, and with the windows rolled down, it was pleasantly breezy inside the car. In the backseat, Chrono had been asked to redo Konomi's sagging pigtails. Distracted, Ryuuzu played with the automatic window controls, at least until Ibuki lost his patience and locked them, leaving them half open from the button on the dashboard in the front. In Sumida, it was sunny. The grass plain before the Dragon Empire branch office, an oasis the busy city centre, was busier than usual, but no busier than any other event-filled afternoon.

With a smile on his face as effortless as the work behind the scenes was tedious, Mamoru greeted them by the front entrance.

"It's great that you could make it!" Truth was, they were a few people short. They often were.

"We're just glad to be here," It had all been with short notice, and Aichi was thankful they'd been able to work things out.

Ryuuzu had torn himself away from Chrono's side to hug Mamoru. "Thanks a lot for watching him today, Chrono,"

"Oh, that's no problem," Chrono watched him often whenever he could, and happily so.

Ibuki was straggling behind a bit, Konomi holding his sleeve in some sort of vice grip. He wasn't aware a child her size was capable of such raw strength.

"It's good to see you out here in the field, chief," Mamoru made it sound like Ibuki never came out to the events.

"We can all benefit from the occasional change of work environments," He replied quietly, as if he needed to justify his presence.

"That's the sort of logic you'd normally apply to everyone but yourself," Chrono commented.

"So, it's a positive development we're seeing here, clearly," Mamoru built on his statement a bit further. Ibuki wondered if this was just how things were, or if his friends and coworkers would treat him more sensibly if he practiced what he preached. Well, today he might find out.

Mamoru handed out volunteer passes, but appeared to come up one short. Aichi and Chrono got theirs already hanging around their necks when Ibuki realized there was none for him.

"...I don't get one?" He asked, foolishly. He already knew the answer.

"Well, we need someone to watch the kids, don't we?" Chrono said without hesitation.

"I'm sorry, I hope you don't mind?" Aichi asked sheepishly.

Ibuki already knew he could not say no. He could only accept his fate. Konomi was still holding onto his sleeve, and he didn't want to make her feel like a burden. He had to lighten up, even if it pained him.

"Of course," He said, a little pointedly.

"Right, and," Mamoru pushed onto him an pamphlet, a time table of the staged events for the day. "Don't forget we need you on stage for the announcement of the top three fighters in each tournament bracket. A few words to the winners would be nice,"

Need felt like such a strong word. "I... haven't prepared anything." He naturally hadn't as he'd found out about this just now.

"Oh, we'll figure something out!" Always working hard, yet always overambitious, over enthusiastic, that was the Dragon Empire branch. Ibuki appreciated their gusto, he truly did, but these were not the circumstances he preferred to work under.

"I'll see you backstage!" With that, Mamoru was off, but not before shooting his usual finger guns.

"...I'll seeing you two later, I suppose." Turning to AIchi and Chrono, Ibuki looked like he was bracing himself.

"Yeah, we should get to work." Chrono was more than ready to show Aichi around, and to show him how they did things working the events, something Aichi had never done before.

"We'll um, be around," Aichi was certain they'd run into each other, as participants and arrangers of the event. "So let us know if there's anything."

That last comment bothered Ibuki a little. "...Hopefully that won't be necessary."

"Right," Aichi smiled agreeingly.

"Well then, _youngsters,"_ With Konomi in one hand and Ryuuzu in the other, Ibuki held a tight grip onto their hands. "It's time to... brace the festivities."

Hardened look on his face, already a few strands of hair straying out of place, and with a somewhat shiny texture to his pale skin, Ibuki was off with two grinning children latched onto him.

"Is... he going to be okay?" Aichi asked just to be safe.

"Oh he's fine," Chrono's smile wasn't super convincing. "Or, you know," Realizing as much himself, Chrono corrected himself. "He's not that helpless."

Aichi watched them go, disappearing among the crowds. It had only been so often he or Kai had let Konomi out of their sight. It was a little scary, probably more so for him than for Konomi, who had been looking forward to today, but he had to bear it. Being overprotective was not good for her development, either.

      

      

      

      

      

      

It was well into the afternoon when they'd started packing things up, the few hour long event finished. Ibuki's spontaneous contribution on stage and elsewhere had gone off without too many issues, and agreed among the Dragon Empire staff was that all in all, the day had been a success. Having cancelled a briefing with his HR staff at the main branch in order to make it, Ibuki was still content. Mamoru let them go a bit earlier, with only Chrono insisting to stay behind a bit longer, which was probably for the best. Less because they needed the help, and more because Ryuuzu couldn't be left to roam the premises all on his own.

Ibuki offered Aichi and Konomi a ride home, which Aichi hesitantly accepted. "You could drop us off by the station," He insisted one few times too many, and Ibuki took the hint.

In the car, the two of them seated next to each other in the back seat, Aichi kept a close eye on Konomi. She seemed to be satisfied, not yet to be caught up in the torrents of any lows that threatened to bring her down. He'd watched her from a distance during the day, and sent Kai any updates.

Ibuki did drop them off at the station, that was, the station some 25 minutes from their house. It was a compromise of sorts. Ibuki stepped out of the car, and Konomi got a proper goodbye. She hugged him, like she had Chrono, and Mamoru, and everyone else she knew that she'd met that day. She hadn't always been like that. In fact, it was quite new. Since before the previous weekend when she'd hugged Misaki goodbye, Konomi had only ever so rarely initiated any goodbyes beyond words.

They walked home together and spoke of their day. Clouds had blown in and threatened with rain. When they approached the house, Konomi darted across the grass and leapt up the short few steps before the door. Kai had seen them through the window, and had come to open.

In the kitchen, Kai was preparing for dinner. "I'm hungry," Konomi complained, and Kai sighed.

"Dinner won't be long." He said, just a little preoccupied.

"I want fruit," Konomi pretended not to hear him. "Fruit Salad,"

Kai was afraid that if he'd feed her now, she wouldn't eat her dinner properly later. At the same time, it was hard to say no when he knew she'd had such a long and active day. No wonder she was hungry.

"Alright," He gave in. "I'll make you some. But promise to eat your food later."

"I promise!" She said, hastily.

With trained movements, Kai quickly chopped up some fruit. Apple, orange, pear, banana, and mixed a portion for her in a bowl. He didn't use all the fruit, no, that'd be way too much food just for a snack.

"Fruit Salad," Konomi affirmed, a little excited, "Fruit Salad... with ice cream."

"No, you ca-"  
"Well, I supp-"

The freezer had popped open. Kai and Aichi looked at one another. Representing different stages of surprise, Kai could not voice his complaints before Konomi cried out.

_"Aichi says I get ice cream!"_

"A... a little ice cream?" Aichi suggested carefully. Their opinions clearly differing on this matter, Kai weighed his options.

"A little ice cream." He repeated all while airing his frustrations, only in his tone. "A little."

A small single scoop situated in the center of her bowl, Konomi happily ate her fruit salad while watching some television.

Once dinner came along, she ate her fried rice with a reasonably good appetite. Outside, rain had started pouring down. Slightly concerned about the weather in that way only adults could be, Kai and Aichi conversed about it. Gloria, for one, couldn't care less. After dinner she knew it would soon be time for her walk, and yapping by the door, she reminded her flock, just in case they'd somehow forgotten about the walk today. It had been a few hours, but Konomi was still a bit excitable. Gloria got caught up in her pace, and Kai had to try and maneuver the both of them together. Getting Konomi's raincoat out and putting it on her, untangingling the dog leash, putting on two pairs of boots, out the door in the pouring rain and hefty winds. Aichi watched them from the living room window. Kai had forgotten to button his own raincoat all the way up, and just as they'd gotten outside, Konomi's cap had almost blown off her head and he'd had to adjust it. For a spell, with Gloria tugging the leash, Kai too distracted to keep tabs on her, preoccupied in the rain, they were stuck just outside the house in the yard. The weather an inconvenience at large, but not of any hindrance. Konomi was smiling, beaming in her yellow cap, rain drops staining her face. Kai let her take the leash, and when Gloria pulled her forward, she pulled back. Eventually, they were off. Aichi was glad they didn't turn around to look at him, because it would have been hard to explain the tears that had started to cascade down his face, not unlike the rain outside. Vibrant and precious, a memory that had remained a memory; until now. Although sentimental, with his age, Aichi was not naive. He knew the toll of trauma, of grief. He'd lived it all, experienced it all, first-hand, second-hand, all these years. While some people grow apart, others grow together, tightly, a symbiotic existence where life outside the other becomes hard to conceptualize. Shared memories become shared burdens, shared joys, and the emotional involvement in itself becomes a link that ties it all together; a double set of references. Aichi remembered just as Kai did, the first time they'd ever met. As for why he thought of it now and wept, was because it had yet again gained a new meaning. Aichi had understood, and accepted, a long time ago, that the boy he'd met that day was never coming back. It hadn't changed how he felt, nor what he wanted.

Perhaps it was insignificant in itself, compared to everything that had transpired over the years, culminating in the past years' struggles of loss and gain. A rainy night almost one year ago, when they'd made their decision, to set themselves aside for the largest commitment conceivable in their relationship, Aichi had unlike Kai, dared to dream a little of the future. He'd always had faith things would settle one way or another, that they'd overcome. Still he could not foresee it all, and he'd never predicted, or expected that he would get to see that very same smile again. It was only for a moment, in the rain, but to him it was unmistakable. Unabashed, eyes alight with an appetite for life, indeed grinning like children Aichi had watched both Kai and Konomi in the rain, just before they were off, a little adventure that he didn't need to be part of to know how much it meant.

He'd cried, and it was a little hard to stop. He blew his nose, washed his face, rested. The relief that came with the tears stayed around. On the fridge, chunky magnets kept a number of postcards in place. Some were still sitting there since Aichi's birthday in spring, others were even older. _Come visit whenever it suits you, I'll make accomodations whenever, wherever. All three of you are always welcome,_ signed Olivier Gaillard. _As always standing proud as proof that compassion and diligence triumphs! I am proud to have been a part of your story. All happiness to you and your family,_ signed Kiba Shion. _I'm overjoyed to hear the news. You have all my support. As for any gifts, a signed letter will do. My daughter was always a fan,_ signed Habara Kyouko.

The rain poured, harder than before, and Aichi brewed some tea in the tea set his mother had given him and Kai last year for their union. The tears threatened to come back, once, twice, but his heart was light. In the approaching dusk, he waited for his family to return home.

      

      

      

The end

      

      

      

      

      

      

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, Huppa here. It feels incredibly strange to finish a story after working on it for almost a year, especially when it's been finished in my head for such a long time. Until the very end, things kept changing here and there, but at large it is the same story that I had planned from the beginning.
> 
> At the current moment, I still feel some unease. I feel like I could have done even more, even better and spent even more time on this story as a whole and this singular chapter. However, I also felt like it was time to finish up this story.
> 
> I've written a personal and very informal reflection in regards of my process working on this story, you can read it [here](https://tanukifucker91.tumblr.com/post/178696169660). I wrote it for my own sake, so I'd have nothing left floating around in my head. [I also edited the og card list for good measure.](https://cardfightvanguardfanon.wikia.com/wiki/User_blog:Huppappapa/Seeker_Support_for_Favorite_ch.5)
> 
> I've said it before and I'll say it again; thank you all so much for your comments and kudos! I don't have much experience writing long stories and I've never quite gotten this much feedback before, so it means a whole lot to me. My health is poor, but as long as I can write, it helps to make sense of things. Now that this story is over, I feel like I'll have to try and start working on something new soon, to fill the gap it'll leave behind.
> 
> I feel like I've exhausted my words, so just let me repeat myself, as if there hadn't been enough of that already; thank you, thank you, thank you for reading!


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